


City of Stone, Heart of Glass

by missema



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Brothers, Character Death, Courtship, Duty, Dwarves, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ferelden, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Orzammar, Politics, Royalty, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU setting where Alistair, Cailan and Maric make one memorable trip to Orzammar, and Alistair meets Princess Vaia Aeducan.</p><p>In exchange for a story on the Dragon Age kmeme, I offered a fill to this prompt:<br/>Alistair, youngest son of Maric, is the spare of the pair. His father decides to take Cailan (as a last journey before he is married) and him on his annual trip to Orzammar. This would be Alistair's first time visiting. Cailan makes a comment about dwarven women, complete with a lecherous grin, but Alistair thinks he is putting him on. Until he sees the the noble women of the Diamond Quarter, the beauties that are the noble-hunters and then finally he is introduced to King Endrin's beloved daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CReed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CReed/gifts).



He'd heard word of the upcoming trip his father was to make from a servant first, then his brother. A visit to Orzammar, the last and finest city of the dwarves seemed like a grand adventure, indeed. All of the good adventures usually took place without him in attendance, tucked well away from anything that might be interesting, or dangerous, but always finding Cailan instead. Prince Alistair of Ferelden sighed, thinking once again, about how unlucky he was to be the second son of a king.  
  
Technically, he was a prince, though to his mind, not one of much importance. That dubious honor went to his elder brother, Cailan, who would inherit the crown. It was Cailan that got to do everything, even though Alistair knew not all of it was fun. Although when it wasn't, Alistair usually had to join in. They had expectations of them both, and for Alistair there was less learning to dance with Antivan beauties or trips to Nevarra in their father's stead and more martial training, though he really didn't mind his place as a soldier.  
  
Case in point - Cailan had already been to Orzammar twice before, whereas Alistair had only heard his brother's tales of the stone city that sat within a mountain. This visit was a special occasion, for it was Cailian's first official diplomatic visit, and the dwarves would be giving their well-wishes on his upcoming marriage to Lady Anora Mac Tir.  
  
Marriage, now that was one adventure that he could hardly believe his brother was actually embarking upon. This marriage had been arranged for years, but no one had bothered to mention it until recently, as his elder brother drew closer to his tweny-fifth year. Cailan was daring and bold, charming and wicked at times, and too popular with the ladies. Alistair didn't have a smidge of his brother's charm, and usually wound up red-faced and stammering while Cailan winked and pinched bottoms. From chambermaids to visiting princesses, women fell over themselves when Cailan turned his attentions towards them. In comparison, Alistair was as chaste as the day he was made, and thought himself most unlikely to ever indulge in a casual dalliance.  
  
"Brother!" Cailan's voice called out to him, making Alistair drop the book he was holding. He wasn't the bookish sort, neither he nor his brother had that trait, but Alistair shared their father Maric's keen interest in history. The upcoming trip had captured his interest, and he'd gone in search of a book of dwarven history. If he couldn't visit there, he could at least read about it.  
  
The book though wasn't fascinating enough for Alistair to lose himself in, and he didn't bother to try and reclaim his place. The words he'd been reading weren't of much interest to him anyway, half of them in dwarven, going on about their underground tunnels that connected their cities - the Deep Roads.  
  
"What are you doing with that book?" Cailan asked him, genuinely curious.  
  
"Reading." Alistair replied dryly. "It's what one does with books."  
  
"Come now, there have to be better things for you to do than read right now."  
  
Alistair thought for a moment, unsure if his brother was hinting at some forgotten duty that he should have attended to before settling into the library. When he could think of nothing, he shook his head.  
  
"Nothing comes to mind. I just wanted to read about Orzammar."  
  
"That's just daft." Cailan scoffed, laughing, but not unkindly. His brother didn't have it in him to be unkind, unless pushed to it. "You can just ask the Shaper when we get there. They know everything about the dwarves, including the all the history, and tales of the Grey Wardens."  
  
Cailan included the part about the Wardens to get to his brother, knowing Alistair's fascination with the ancient order. Alistair, however, didn't rise to the bait, shaking his head again. "And when would I ever get to ask the Shaper?"  
  
"I'm sure father will find some time to let you go once we're there. You'll want to see all of the Diamond Quarter, that's where the nobles live. They love their luxuries, those dwarves." Cailan chuckled. "They could put Orlesians to shame."  
  
Truly confused now, Alistair wondered if he were hearing things. Cailan was talking to him like he was going along on the trip, and if he was, no one had bothered to tell him. "Am I going too?" Alistair asked.  
  
"Of course you are! It's well past time you've gotten to go. I kept telling father to take you on his trip last year, but he was being bullheaded about the whole ordeal. We're all going this once, since they're throwing me a big feast and all. I can't wait until you try dwarven ale - you're going to love it!"  
  
"Isn't that a bit foolish, all three of us going at once? There will no one here in case something happens."  
  
Cailan waved a hand, brushing away Alistair's concern. "Anora and Loghain will be here, and they're enough to ward off any attack, especially with Loghain stomping around in that plate armor." He leaned in closer to whisper to Alistair, though they were alone in the room. "And if you're worried about there being no Theirin in Denerim, there's a downstairs maid that's full to the brim of Theirin, both arse and quim. She could likely birth a litter of my bastards after last night alone."  
  
Alistair made a face, mostly at his brother's vulgar admission, but also at the stab of emotion that stung him. A child born on the wrong side of the blanket himself, Alistair had been claimed by his father and made legitimate after his mother had left the picture, and knew next to nothing about her. Cailan seemed destined to follow in his father's footsteps in that regard, starting affairs whenever the fancy struck him. Though he knew his brother didn't boast of them to wound him, but it did all the same, and he detested the carelessness of Cailan's actions.  
  
But his brother just laughed at his contorted visage, and got up to leave them room. "You really should loosen up about women. You'll see, those dwarven women are worth the trip alone." Turning into a full-blown lecher, his brother let a wicked grin spread across his face as he recalled memories of some past trip. "Maker, those women are beauties - ample in all the right places. If you're going to fool around, that's the place to start."  
  
"I don't think so." Alistair said stoutly. "But I'll match you mug for mug of dwarven ale when we get down there."  
  
Cailan laughed again, the sound filling the room. "You don't even know what you're promising, but you're on little brother."  
  
Leaving Alistair to his book, Cailan left, striding from the room, likely to seek out King Maric to talk about the trip before the night was over. Alistair stood up, letting the excitement he'd held at bay flood through him. He was finally going, for once, on an adventure. Though he was confused by Cailan's peculiar comment about the dwarven women, not understanding how they could possibly be different from the surface dwarves he'd met, he set it aside, thinking it another one of his brother's jests. This adventure was to be one of his own at last - and Alistair could hardly wait to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Vaia Aeducan put on her most attentive face to listen to the concerns of House Meino, but she didn't doubt that they were the same as they had been the last time they'd come to complain at the palace. How her father, King Endrin, could deal with them was beyond her, for she could barely summon up the politeness required of her in these meetings. She shifted in her surface silk gown of pale lilac, sitting primly on a stone chair behind a desk, where she pretended to take notes while Meino talked at her.  
  
Since she'd come into adulthood, her father had started setting tasks for her, to see how she faired after her years of training. While others were schooled in the arts of their parents, men and women of the smith caste passed down their knowledge to their children, she'd had tutors and advisors to do the same for her. The only difference was that as royalty, she wasn't expected to make swords or learn to clean like the servant caste, but to rule. She had earned her own rank in the arm, was fluent in several languages, skilled in diplomacy of all kinds, from negotiations to dancing of all things, she'd been primed to become the next leader of Orzammar, if the need ever arose.  
  
"Princess Vaia, please excuse the interruption!" An unfamiliar voice broke into Lord Meino's ceaseless monotone, and she snapped her head to locate the intruder. "I bear a message from your father, you are to go and see him at once." The servant who had come in bowed in her direction, then to Lord Meino, who had been complaining at full steam before he was interrupted.  
  
"Don't mind me, dear Princess. You must go when your father summons." The oily Meino said to her, simpering in the hope of currying her favor.  
  
"As much as it pains me to leave at the moment, you are correct. Lord Meino, we shall continue this at another time, when our schedules permit. Excuse me, and take my apologizes for the untimeliness of the interruption." Vaia swept from the room as quickly as was proper, glad to be relieved of the onerous duty to listen to Meino whine. She was sure that the man was behind the door trying to figure out why her father had called her away from their meeting, and how he could use it to his advantage.  
  
Vaia moved quickly, for it wasn't wise to keep her father waiting. He wasn't a patient man, and unfortunately, neither was his heir, her elder brother Trian. In her heart, she feared for the future of her entire civilization, her father and brother clung to outmoded traditions concerning caste and society, which had slowly been killing them. Still, she benefited from the system, whether she liked it or not, and for now, did her best to work within it.  
  
"Father, my King. I have come at your summons." Vaia said, bowing before her father. She couldn't approach until he allowed her to, and she stood with her head down, waiting for permission.  
  
Sitting upon the ornately carved stone seat, her father beckoned her forward with a tilt of his wrinkled hand. She looked at his white hair and lined face, but found his grey eyes to be as flinty and hard as ever. It was those eyes she'd inherited, but while his were cold, Vaia's had a spark of amber in the middle, making them seem warmer. Save for her eyes, she hardly looked like her father at all, having her mother's dark skin and hair, the same upturned nose and slender jaw.  
  
Her father reached out a hand to her and she took it. "You look more like your mother every day. As beautiful as she was smart." He said fondly, his words mirroring her thoughts. "And you serve just as well, she would have been proud of you. I am, and that is why I called upon you, my girl. I have another task for you, one more important that anything Meino could ever have brought up. Our surface visitors, King Maric of Ferelden and his sons have sent word that they are heading here soon, and I want you to see to their every comfort during their stay. I am entrusting you with this responsibility for the first time, dear girl, to see if you are ready for it. Do not let me down."  
  
"It shall be done, father." Vaia nodded. "Our guests will not want for anything while in the city."  
  
Endrin smiled at her, patting her hand with his own weathered flesh. "Very good, Vaia. You are dismissed."  
  
She nodded once more, acknowledging her dismissal. Once away from the throne room, Vaia allowed herself to rage internally for a few minutes, before regaining her composure. Of all the maddening, unimportant tasks - to provide for a pair of human princes and their father. It wasn't even worthy of the servants, and she had to wonder why her father considered it so important. Surely, there was no need for her to be in charge of this task - her younger brother Bhelen, though still considered a child, would have been a better choice to anticipate the needs of three men. Certainly, she knew of humans, but had never been permitted to sit in on King Maric's yearly visits, only glimpsing him at the grand dinner's held in his honor, and had little knowledge of the man himself. No matter what, she would do her duty, though she bristled with the thought of providing for some spoiled, overgrown men.  
  
There was nothing for her to do but go to the head maid and find out what the King had required in the past and what was planned for this year. At least that would give her a place to start. After that, depending on what she could find out, she'd blanket their rooms in surface goods, and make sure the food was the frilly, overdone kind that humans preferred. If she was going to have to cater to King Maric, she was going to make it a visit he wouldn't forget.


	3. Chapter 3

When King Endrin entrusted his daughter with the task of coordinating the details of King Maric's visit, he had neglected to tell her of the feast for his eldest son, Crown Prince Cailan.  Strange that they should be celebrating his upcoming wedding without his intended bride, but Vaia never claimed to understand humans or their mating customs in the least.  The thought didn't trouble her as she worked alongside the servants, planning the events of their visit down the the smallest details.  If her father wanted to test her, she would surpass his expectations in every way possible. 

Vaia didn't do this for praise - she knew that there was little to be found if she desired that reward.  Rather she did it because she had to, and it was her way.  Trian often accused her of showing off whenever she upstaged him, but pushing herself, doing the extra something that made her efforts spectacular - it was simply in her nature, she did things whole-heartedly or not at all.  Passion, she liked to call it, but she'd heard whispers of other, less flattering names for it.  Obstinate.  Stubborn.  Picky.  Hubris.  Cocky.  Arrogance.  All of those condemnations had reached her ears at some point, but she brushed them aside, no more meaningful than the cowards who refused to face her with such words.  Those who whispered didn't have to contend with the disapproval of King Endrin when they failed.  Her father brooked no failure from his children.

Coming from the kitchens after consulting with the head cook on a month's worth of dishes, Vaia bent her head to check the list she'd made on a roll of parchment.  After attending to the food, she wanted to see to the music, the players were to compose a new song for Prince Cailan's fete at the end of his stay.  Lost in thought, Vaia walked by her own room and had to double back. 

"You're going to run yourself ragged at this rate, my Lady Aeducan."  Vaia turned to see Gorim, her second, standing up as she came into her quarters.

"Ah, well, maybe if I tire myself out, I'll finally get a decent night's sleep."   

"You aren't sleeping, my Lady?  I'm sure we could find a way to solve that problem."  Gorim was careful, keeping his tone neutral, even though they were alone in the room, but she understood his veiled meaning.   

He'd been trying to sleep with her for ages, after they'd grown close during days of lessons and training, of him escorting her as a guard, and treating her as an equal.  She could no longer count the number of days she'd spent with him, and some when he was the only friendly face she'd see.  An intimacy had sprung up between them, comfortable and familiar, an easy joking about his attraction to her.  While she certainly found Gorim handsome, he was a fine specimen of the warrior caste, Vaia felt no desire to sully their relationship.  He was her closest friend, and without that friendship, she would feel too alone. 

"A potion from a healer or something of that nature?  No thanks, I'd rather risk insomnia."

"Maybe then you just need a good sparring session.  You haven't used your weapons since your father set you to this task."  Gorim reminded her.

"That's a good point.  I should make time for it today."  She said absently, thinking on the rest of her list for today.  Vaia whirled around, fixing Gorim with a look.  "You're a man, Gorim."  She began, but he interrupted her with a loud laugh.

"Finally, all that tutoring pays off."

"Quiet, you."  Vaia said, giving in to the smile that tugged at her lips.  "I mean, I need your help.  The humans that are coming to visit, no one has said anything to me about it, but I know that I need to provide them with...company.  I understand that of such women, a courtesan is the most desirable, especially for men of stature.  However, the way of procuring such things are unknown to me, and I would ask Bhelen, but..."

"You worry he will take credit for it?"  Gorim asked in a low voice.

Vaia frowned, hating how the words sounded aloud, though he'd accurately guessed the source of her hesitation in approaching her brother.  "I want to do this on my own, but to succeed, I need allies with more knowledge than I alone possess."  She said, skirting around the accusation. 

"I shall look into it, and make the necessary arrangements, my lady." 

She nodded, relieved that the subject seemed resolved with such little embarrassment on her part.  Changing the subject seemed wise, for she had no further desire to speak on it.  "Tell me, what are my brothers doing?"

"Prince Trian is attending the talks between your father and Lord Harrowmont, I believe, and Prince Bhelen wasn't in the palace before. Probably out enjoying his freedom from Trian this morning. 

"Most likely you're right about Bhelen.  There's no telling where he's gone off to in any case.  If I wasn't sure to get yelled at, I would check in with Trian and see if he needs anything.  He's so testy these days, I hardly know where to start with him."  Vaia mused, not for the first time wondering what made her elder brother so cranky.  

"Oh well, since it's just you and I for a while, why don't we go and practice after I check with the musicians?  If any of the humans are warriors, we might be able to convince them to team up against us." 

Gorim chuckled darkly at her suggestion.  "My lady, I wouldn't, if I were them, but then again, I've seen you with those daggers before." 

The days before their expected visitors were to arrive seemed to pass with unnatural haste, and Vaia found herself busy for long days, intricate preparations taking up her time as she tried to anticipate every detail for guests she'd never met before.  It was a daunting task, and she began to see why her father had given it to her, though some of the more mundane details bored her to tears. 

She posted her own watches for signs of them, wanting to know the very moment their party entered the Frostback Mountains.  Her runners would inform her immediately, and she would prepare her people for their arrival, no matter what time or day or night the humans decided to show up.  Outwardly, she showed no sign of nervousness when questioned by her father at meals, but within the privacy of her quarters, she often confided to Gorim her doubts.  He soothed her as much as she allowed him to, which wasn't much, but she was happy that her friend tried to help.  Even he was showing signs of exhaustion, ragged around the edges from their preparations, for much of her planning fell to him to execute and he was ever at her side, accompanying her as she worked.   

Keeping herself busy with details up until the day of their arrival, Vaia worked tirelessly until word came from her runner.  The red banners with pictures of mabari on them had been sighted at last, along with a large company of soldiers and wagons.  At the rate they were moving, they were expected within the next day.  Upon getting the news, Vaia sent her men back out, deploying the escort she'd prepared to meet them, complete with new refreshments and food, should they require it.  She only hoped that it would be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

The road to the Frostback Mountains was much, much longer than Alistair had anticipated. Were he traveling with anyone other than the King of Ferelden, he might have found himself sleeping on the ground in tents and hard bedrolls. Though Maric wouldn't have minded, no one expected the king and his heirs to rough it along the path. Months before, if not longer, their course had been mapped and scouted, and all the stops planned so that even if they should be delayed by the rains, which unfortunately started on the second day as a drizzle, they would still have a place to sleep each night.  
  
Even with the increased duration of their travels, albeit only a slight rain delay, Alistair was enjoying himself. There were only a handful of times when he found himself away from Denerim, mostly for trips to Redcliffe or Highever, and found the Ferelden countryside captivating. He loved the variation of it all, from rolling hills to grasslands and into mountains, he didn't tire of the scenery. Cailan however, had seen it too many times before and was blithe about their surroundings, amusing himself by telling Alistair bawdy tales of Orzammar.  
  
"The city itself is a wonder, but it's the dwarves that make it worth going. Their society isn't at all like ours, it's like you've gone to a completely different country, no, another realm, once you get there. There's a history lesson and a reason for everything they do, even the way they lay out their food. But don't let all the rules and customs fool you, they could teach us a thing or two about politicking and deceit. You'll hear about the nobles seducing the wife of an adversary or deflowering their loveliest daughter." When this line of conversation got no response from Alistair, Cailan tried again.  
  
"There are women there who actually pay for permits to sleep with men from the nobility."  
  
"You're putting me on." Alistair said, shocked that such a practice might actually exist.  
  
"Not at all. They're called noble-hunters, and they get all prettied up and go to the Diamond Quarter, trying to pick up men from the nobility. When they do, they have as much fun," Cailan stopped to elbow his brother and waggle his eyebrows, just in case Alistair was in doubt of what kind of fun he was talking about. "As they can, then hope they're pregnant with a baby boy."  
  
"Why a boy?"  
  
"Rule of their society. They want a son so they can inherit the noble caste of the father, and the women can be raised up as a concubine and brought into the house." Cailan explained.  
  
"But that makes no sense. Who would want to be a concubine?" Alistair asked.  
  
"Better than being one of the lower classes, at least for some. Anyway, I've never had a noble-hunter, they only want dwarves, but they're damn nice to look at. There are other women, but not on display like the noble-hunters. The things I've done in Orzammar - not many people, human or dwarf, have had two nubile dwarven lasses, covered only in oil from head to toe..."  
  
"And they pay for permits? It's a profession?"  
  
"Yup. They're vendors, of a sort. They aren't allowed in the Diamond Quarter otherwise."  
  
"You seem to know an awful lot about this." Alistair was suspicious of Cailan. This tale of noble-hunting sounded far-fetched to his ears, like the time Cailan claimed to have outrun his guards all the way to the brothel in Denerim.  
  
He'd been misled too many times by his elder brother, which usual led to Alistair looking quite foolish. Cailan loved to take advantage of Alistair's relative naiveté, especially in matters pertaining to anything sexual. Cailan, for his part, thought he was helping Alistair get over his somewhat prudish nature, though his brother seemed determined to resist all assistance.  
  
"Cailan, let Alistair alone now. He'll find out enough about Orzammar once we get there." King Maric called out, his voice affectionate but stern.  
  
"Yes, Father." Cailan answered, but he continued talking to his brother in a quieter voice. "Look for those women, the noble-hunters, when we get to the Diamond Quarter. They'll be standing around, trying to chat up the men as they walk by. Maybe even at some of the parties they throw in our honor."  
  
"Come on you two, that's quite enough." Maric said, turning around again. He wasn't truly angry, because his face, so like his sons, was twisted in a half-grin, light eyes dancing with mischief. "Neither of you shall do anything shame Ferelden in Orzammar, including gawking at the women. Their ways are not ours, but I expect you to abide by their rules."  
  
"Yes, Father." Alistair and Cailan replied automatically, both of them feeling about ten years younger than they were.  
  
Maric rarely spent time with the two of them at the same time, but when he did, they joked and laughed their problems away as they had when they were young boys. Maric could be serious, and had the enduring sorrow of someone that had suffered much in lifetime, but with his sons, he was always kind and patient.  
  
Despite the amused, watchful eye of Maric and the constant ribald joking of Cailan, Alistair's enthusiasm for both the journey and the destination remained undiminished. It was a rare occasion where they felt like a family instead of a loose confederation of people who all looked alike. Perhaps he was too sentimental, or maybe it was the constant feeling of an outsider looking in that plagued him, but he relished the few times when they acted like a family.  
  
He wasn't given to envy normally, but he'd visited the Couslands of Highever once at their castle and had known it then. The teyrn had been kind and accommodating, but it was the meals together that Alistair remembered the most. Instead of the formal and oftentimes solitary meals of the palace in Denerim, the Couslands ate as a large, loud group. They'd displayed the easy intimacy of the family, who joked and laughed together as friends at every turn. There were lively discussion and gentle teasing between all members of the family, and had come to include Alistair after a time. He'd also known a painful longing for Elissa Cousland, who'd given him his first kiss on that trip.  
  
It hadn't been that long ago, he'd been in Highever to train with the Cousland guards and check on the teyrnir for his father, but it seemed ages in the past. Elissa had gone off to Orlais recently, but not before catching the eye of Bann Teagan, the nearest thing Alistair had to an uncle. Their closeness added a frenzy of gossip to the royal court before her departure, and many were speculating about the nature and duration of their relationship. The last time he'd saw her, she'd grown more lovely and wild than ever, as unrestrained and fearsome as a warrior goddess. There were rumors about her of all sorts, but most saying that her father would let her rule instead of her elder brother Fergus.  
  
But Elissa Cousland was not for him, at least not in his mind. It had been enough that she'd kissed him, and spent time teaching him how to kiss during that visit. Not that he'd much cause to use it after the trip, but it was knowledge gleefully acquired. However, with Cailan's constant comments about dwarven women, Alistair wondered if he might actually have cause to put his kissing know-how to work. As soon as the notion crossed his mind, Alistair banished it, feeling ridiculous for having thought it. It didn't matter - he was more than content just to go and visit Orzammar.  
  
They soon crossed over into the mountains, only a day and half behind the schedule they'd made in Denerim. As they did, Alistair's senses became aware that they were being watched. Discreetly, he queried one of the guards with the caravan, and the man confirmed his suspicions. Apparently, the dwarves set their own watch for the King, and left guards en route, to ensure his safe arrival to their city. The forethought impressed Alistair, who could appreciate the dwarves not wanting the King of Ferelden to be ambushed on their doorstop.  
  
Not long after, they were greeted by a dwarven welcome caravan, commanded by a surface dwarf that introduced himself as an emissary of House Aeducan. He came complete with food and ale, compliments of King Endrin. If this was the kind of hospitality they were going to get during the trip, Alistair might have to seriously consider moving to Orzammar. The rest of their trip was quick going, and before too long, he saw the grand sight of the large doors carved into a mountain, the only surface passage to Orzammar.


	5. Chapter 5

Orzammar was an amazing sight, Alistair gaping as he looked around. It wasn't anything like he expected, and more than he could have imagined. While he knew it was in a mountain, he hadn't expected it to be so...clean. He knew that it wouldn't have been remotely dirty or dingy, even surface dwarves had too much pride to say anything like that about Orzammar, but this place was nothing short of amazing.  
  
His first sight was the giant Paragon statues that lined the Hall of Heroes. As a first impression, it was more than memorable. Alistair was awed by the grand statues of the revered dwarves immortalized in stone for all to see. He walked by each one, wanting to study them, see them in greater detail. They were massive, but still elegant, each depicting an ancestor and something symbolic, smiths were made with their tools, warriors with arms.  
  
Another set of doors opened to reveal the area he came to know as the Commons. It was the home of the merchant caste, and the main trading center of Orzammar. Shops of all kinds lined the streets, but they were all closed in honor of their arrival. Dwarves of all sorts stood in front of the shops, looking curiously, some kneeling as their entourage passed by.  
  
The marketplace gleamed as they walked through it, the soles of their shoes making no noise on the honed stone floors. Every building had a beautiful mix of stonework that made it seem unified but not all the same. There was stone so polished it shone like glass under their feet, but the walls were made of rough, sturdy slabs that looked like all one rock. He could hardly take all of it in as they walked through, Alistair only remembering at the end that he was supposed to look regal and not like a slack-jawed yokel, gaping at all he could see.  
  
After their short procession, they were led beyond the market and towards the Royal Palace.  
  
"Welcome to the Diamond Quarter - the pride of Orzammar." Their guide said as he led them through yet another set of doors.  
  
The Diamond Quarter was aptly named, for it was grander than anything he'd yet seen in the city. Palatial estates lined one side of the street, and unobstructed view of a river of lava bedecked the other side. It was both beautiful and useful, it was warmer in Orzammar than Alistair had been in all of his time on the road.  
  
Here, the finery clad dwarves still stood outside their estates, but they feigned a polite disinterest in King Maric and his sons. Ah, but nobles were the same everywhere, weren't they, even if they did live underground. The thought made Alistair chuckle to himself as they walked along. They were getting higher up, closer to the surface with each step towards the palace.  
  
At the top of a set of stairs, just outside the doors to the Royal Palace, a woman, a young, very beautiful woman, was standing, waiting for them. It was as if it were she they were being led to instead of the King. That would certainly make him happy, for she was far less imposing, wearing a welcoming smile on her rather pretty face. Her hair was coiled into an ornate style the showed off the impossible blue-black sheen of it, and displayed her large dark eyes and their long lashes. Wearing a pale gold gown of what looked to be Orlesian silk, she was as beautiful as Cailan had promised the women here would be. Alistair didn't know who she was, but she obviously commanded great respect, he could hear it in her voice as she began to speak.  
  
"King Maric of Ferelden, Crown Prince Cailan and Prince Alistair, be welcome here in the name of my father, King Endrin Aeducan. I am Princess Vaia Aeducan, and it is my honor to be your hostess while you are visiting our city. Please, come with me. My father eagerly awaits you on the Throne of Orzammar."  
  
She spoke with the authority of rank, and the knowledge of one that has been tested and come out the victor. Confidence made her seem larger than she was, and he was surprised to find himself looking down at the Princess. He may have had to look down, but he could not look away from her.  
  
"We are humbled by your gracious greeting, Princess Vaia." Maric said, slipping smoothly into his most authoritative voice. "It is our honor to be welcome amongst the durgen-len."  
  
Vaia nodded at him, and Maric looked pleased to as he tried to speak what she was sure he thought was her tongue. It was elven. They were the dwarva among themselves, but she wasn't so rude as to correct a monarch. She acknowledged his attempt with a gracious smile, and they followed her inside the palace.  
  
King Endrin was indeed waiting for them, but placed no demands on his guests after such time on the road. They were greeted and promptly shown to their rooms, where they could rest and take refreshment. Princess Vaia, to his great astonishment, showed them to their rooms. He had the feeling that the princess was doing this herself for a reason, but he was too tired to think on it deeply. Once inside his room, the thought fled his mind, especially when he saw the hot and cold running water in the stone bath.  Alistair desperately wanted to bathe.  
  
The dinner that night was a subdued festivity, for the real festivities wouldn't begin until the next morning. Few people outside of regular palace guests and the royal family attended it, for that, Alistair was grateful. Cailan was in good spirits, talking animatedly to Princess Vaia as he drank ale, laughing loudly and asking questions. Maric and Endrin sat near each other, deep in discussion, but Alistair found out later that they were talking not of politics but of wedding rituals, Cailan's nuptials had brought up some questions about rituals and customs.  
  
Alistair was left to talk to Prince Trian, who was a bore. During his youth he'd had a lecturer, a brother from the Chantry that reminded him a great deal of Prince Trian. All Alistair had to do was ask about the history of the city, and Trian was off, not even noticing as Alistair's eyes glazed over. Now and again, he stole a glance at the princess, not even aware that he was glancing at her until he lowered his head and went back to his conversation.  
  
She was gorgeous, far more lovely than any woman he'd met in Ferelden. He didn't know a thing about her, but he could tell by her polite laughter and in the careful way she held herself that she was a proper lady. Whatever Cailan's tales of Orzammar, Alistair doubted he'd be charming his way into Princess Vaia's good graces.   
  
"Prince Alistair, did you hear me? I asked if you knew of the Paragon Branka." Trian sounded annoyed, and Alistair scrambled to make some excuse.  
  
"I uh, no. Sorry, Prince Trian, but this dish is phenomenal." Alistair said, thinking of the first distraction that came to mind. It was phenomenal, as was most of the food on the table, although he didn't know exactly what it was.  
  
Trian beamed as if he'd made it himself. "Of course it is. A favorite of mine, slow roasted nug stuffed with chestnuts. I told the kitchens to make this myself..." Trian began yet another story, leaving Alistair to wonder what exactly a _nug_ was.  
  
Soon after that, they adjourned, the royal family of Orzammar bidding them a goodnight after their journey. Grateful that dinner was over, Alistair retreated to his quarters, only to find that he wasn't alone.  
  
######  
  
Princess Vaia retired to her own room after dinner, the day of anticipating the visitors had left her exhausted. Combined with the food and drink, her head felt heavy as she entered her room, Gorim wishing her goodnight as she retreated. The day had gone as well as she could have hoped, her runners altering her with regular updates until the King and his sons were in sight of the city. She was proud of her efforts, but knew it was only the beginning. Yawning as she slipped off her shoes, Vaia turned to see a woman in her quarters. The courtesan she'd provided for one of the humans was waiting in her room, nervously looking around, shifting from foot to foot.  
  
"Why are you here?" Vaia asked, in a voice of forced calm. Inside, she was incensed that this woman was already neglecting her duty.  
  
All of her carefully screened companions were to be in the rooms of their guests when they returned, playing music for them. It was the most elegant introduction Vaia had been able to think of, and would explain their presence. Though she had no experience herself, she thought it would be very disconcerting to just have someone show up at the door.  
  
"Princess Aeducan, please forgive me, but he sent me away." At the admission, she burst into tears, sobbing at her apparent failure. With one movement, the woman was prostrate at her feet, and Vaia helped her up. Tears stained her face, and Vaia regretted her anger. She was clearly upset at the rejection.  
  
"Calm yourself. Which one were you to serve?"  
  
"The youngest, Prince Alistair. He wouldn't even listen to me play the lute or recite poetry. He just sent me away!"  
  
"Perhaps he desires something else." Vaia looked at the disheveled woman in front of her. There was no way she could be sent back in like that, and no guarantee she wouldn't be rejected again. "You've done all you could do for tonight. I will contact you if your services are required later."  
  
"Of course, My Lady Aeducan." The woman said, bowing her blond head.  
  
She was very pretty, her straw colored hair and large grey eyes, but apparently, not to Alistair's liking. When the courtesan had left the room, Vaia followed, but turned towards the guest quarters. Now worried of failure before she'd even truly set into her assigned task, she went up the guards outside the rooms.  
  
"How do our guests fare with the women?" She asked one.  
  
"My lady." Color flooded the guards face, and he said no more. She wished that she hadn't been so hasty in sending Gorim away, for she could use his help. The guards would have readily told him more than they would say to her.  
  
"Speak freely." Vaia pressed. The need for sleep made her desperate keener, and she couldn't keep the a note of it from creeping into her voice.  
  
"It seems like Prince Cailan wouldn't be adverse to more than one guest at a time. King Maric is more reserved, but I heard the harp being played earlier."  
  
Vaia nodded, then all was going well with the others. It was just Alistair she had to deal with. She sent her guards ahead, and they assured her that the prince was still awake and presentable.  
  
"Prince Alistair, may I enter?" Vaia asked the needless question, even though her guards had already informed him that she was coming.  
  
"Princess Vaia. Please." He motioned to a seat, and Vaia nodded at the guards, who exited and shut the door behind them.  
  
"Is all well?" She ventured, not wanting to be too direct straight off.  
  
"Certainly. The accommodations are fine indeed, if a little short." He grinned at her, and she surprised herself by laughing softly.  
  
"We don't get many humans here."  
  
"Our loss then."  
  
"Why did you send your companion away?"  
  
Alistair blushed. "Was she upset? I tried not to upset her. She was lovely, she truly was, but I couldn't." He stammered and sputtered through his explanation, and Vaia vaguely sensed the problem.  
  
"Would you like someone different? A man perhaps?"  
  
The pure shock on Alistair's face nearly made her laugh, but Vaia held it in. "No, no, no...I think you've got the wrong idea. I just can't! Laying with someone isn't a casual pastime!"  
  
He was getting upset now, and she nearly cursed herself. He was a bastard, she'd read the story of his illegitimacy. In Orzammar, that was nothing from the ordinary - a house never denied more children, if they could be claimed, but on the surface it held a certain stigma.  
  
The way he was blushing still, his cheeks blotchy with mottled red, she would also guess that he was as vestal as a Silent Sister.  
  
"I'm sorry. I had no wish to offend, merely provide, if you were so inclined. No one further will visit your chambers, you have my word." Vaia said, standing up.  
  
"I'm not ungrateful, goodness knows that your foresight will probably impress Cailan. It's just not something that I do. Why are we still talking about this? You're my hostess and we're discussing whores. I really wish I hadn't just said 'whores'." Alistair grumbled, making Vaia giggle.  
  
"We can speak of whatever you like, Prince Alistair. I admit, I've never been involved with your father's visits before, so this is as new to me as it is to you."  
  
He visibly relaxed when she changed the subject, shoulders retreating from around his ears. "I never thought I'd come, to be honest. It's a beautiful city, more amazing than I could have guessed. I'd like to learn more about it."  
  
"That can be arranged. Let us speak more about it tomorrow, once you've rested." Vaia got up from where she sat on the stone chair near Alistair's bed, and he stood as well.  
  
"Thank you. You've been very understanding."  He said, flashing her a grateful smile.  Vaia felt herself smiling in return, disarmed by his honesty and awkward charm.  The panic that had filled her earlier fled, and she felt her tiredness return in full force now that she'd resolved the situation.  It was far past time for her to go to bed.  
  
"Goodnight, Prince Alistair. What is it that you humans say,  _Nice dreams_?"  
  
"I think you're looking for  _Sweet dreams_." He answered with a smile. "Goodnight to you as well, Princess Aeducan."


	6. Chapter 6

Upon rising, Vaia took great care with her appearance. Catching her heavy, dark hair in a mesh caul of gold, she dressed in heavy crimson brocade robes accented with gilt. Her feet were encased in soft, ruby-colored slippers that moved noiselessly against the floor. Her makeup wasn't bold, but befitted such an outfit, her eyes rimmed in kohl and made dark, the lashes longer, her lips painted to enhance their natural fullness and pout. At the end of her careful preparations, she was quite pleased with the result. Powerful, without being overbearing; beauty with strength, merged in her very appearance. Even her attendants stood back at the sight of her when she was done.  
  
She had a mind to impress everyone, for this was the first day that eyes would be on her. Those eyes Vaia knew all too well. These were the people she'd dealt with since birth, fighting all the way. The men amongst them would look to either marry or dominate her, and the women would be searching for weaknesses. It was her job to present a flawless front to them, and make it seem effortless, as if she hadn't been working long days and studying about King Maric's history and lineage at night. All must appear as if it were given to her as a gift, and accepted with the grace of the Ancestors that watched over her.  
  
This was the game of the nobles, and Vaia thought she might just be getting the hang of it, after years of preparation. When she was younger, much younger, it had been daunting, for she'd been only fifteen years old when her mother died and she was thrust into the spotlight as the head of the women of House Aeducan. But she'd learned to take up her place with a humility and grace that pleased the women beneath her; she was neither too proud to take advice or too easy to walk over. It had been a hard road for her the last four years, but she was coming into her own nicely, especially since she'd just reached her full majority age a year previously.  
  
At the breakfast, there would be her father's advisors and members of the Assembly, all peers and nobility, always amongst the first to greet any guest to their city. Her entire family would be there - even her brother Bhelen whom was still considered a child and was bade to sit out most of the events of the visit. He was understandably frustrated by this and she felt a pang of sympathy for him, but not too much. She knew her brother well enough to know he would not suffer without the attention on him. Indeed, Bhelen was too comfortable in the shadows for Vaia's liking.  
  
Gorim whistled when he saw her, and she spun around in a circle, showing her dress off. It helped to have his approval, even though she knew he wasn't exactly unbiased. Still, she took the compliment and armed herself, ready to walk into the meal she'd so diligently planned. Whatever Trian may have boasted, it was she that had planned all of the meals for the next few weeks, and procured the harder to find items for the kitchens to ensure nothing went wrong. It wasn't a baseless boast, however, Trian did give the kitchens the recipe for the roasted nug - he was quite curious in matters of cuisine.  
  
Her guests came down the hall towards here as a group, and Vaia felt excitement rise within her at the commencement of the day. Alistair was himself dressed in black and gold finery, which set off the subtle dark shades in his coloring, the darkness of his beard along his jawline, the deeper color of his hazel eyes. It was what truly set him apart from Maric and Cailan who were both fairer, their features a little more rounded where he was sharp. It was a delightful contrast in Vaia's eyes, the angelic looks of Cailan paired with the darker, more angular contours of Alistair.  
  
"Good morning, Lady Aeducan." It was King Maric that greeted her first. She was waiting outside the breakfast room for them, and would not enter until her guests did.  
  
"The same to you, King Maric. I hope that your first night here went well."  
  
"Of course. Your hospitality was most welcome, and my sons and I are feeling very refreshed." He offered, and she nodded absently, minded to get to breakfast and dispense with these pleasantries. Cailan, however, had more to say.  
  
"Alistair tells me that you're the one who planned for our stay here." Cailan ventured, smiling at her.  
  
Her ears pricked at the sentence, picking up the subtext, but she betrayed nothing, instead Vaia nodded graciously at him. "That is correct, Prince Cailan. My father entrusted me to oversee the comforts of your stay. Is everything acceptable?"  
  
"Oh very. I just wanted to let you know how _very_ acceptable it was." Cailan glinted at her, his smile taking over his face, while Maric and Alistair glared in his direction. Subtext, it seemed, was not needed with Prince Cailan, and Vaia found herself laughing at his refreshing forthrightness. It was an anomaly, to be sure, especially to one so used to the cloak and dagger of dwarven politics.  
  
 Vaia stifled her giggles, after a moment, enjoying the brief respite laughter had offered. Willing her features to erase all signs of levity, she nodded and motioned towards the door. "Our meal awaits and Orzammar is waiting to greet you this morning."  
  
"Lead on, Princess." Cailan answered, again with the rakish tone. The guards pushed the heavy stone doors open for them, and the smell of food beckoned her little group forward, Vaia at the lead.  
  
It was near the end of the breakfast, when Prince Alistair was still hovering near her, that Vaia realized what was happening. She watched King Maric and Prince Cailan follow her father out of the breakfast room to attend to business, leaving Alistair behind. He stood at her side, an air of expectancy about him, though it took her a few moments to identify it as such.  
  
Alistair had much fewer official meetings in the city than his father or brother. Cailan was going with Maric to learn, and Alistair, well it was his first time here. This wasn't about managing the visitors for her father, though she did think that was a test, but truly, it was about keeping Alistair out of the way.  
  
She felt an overwhelming rush of sadness for the prince, who looked so eager to be here. All through the breakfast, he'd made enthusiastic conversation with her and the nobles around them, asking curious questions and a few remarkably astute ones. She'd relaxed at the meal, though not outwardly, afraid of the attention it would draw to them. The more they'd talked, the more Vaia liked Alistair, with his friendly, personable nature, and quiet wit. With a bright smile, Vaia turned to him and said, "I thought you might like a set of fine dwarven armor made for you."  
  
In truth, she had no idea of Alistair wanted it or not, but it was the first thing she could think of to do straight after breakfast. The armorers would be pleased to test their skill outfitting a human. At the mention, Alistair grinned, and Vaia felt herself relax. She was going to have to think of more things to do later, there was no way she could keep thinking up excursions for them without planning, but her quick thinking served well enough the first day. As far as company went, she was glad it was Alistair. There was something about him that put her at ease, he was, if not familiar than comfortable.  
  
They wound up sparring late that afternoon, much to Gorim's amusement when it was suggested. Alistair, however, was no slouch when it came to defending himself.  
  
His new armor, wouldn't be ready for a while, but he came with his own, and seemed much more at ease in it than in his regular finery. It surprised her that he wore heavy armor, and fought with the warrior's training. It seemed a strange pastime for a prince, especially one as earnest as Alistair, who didn't seem as if he were playing the soldier to fulfill a fantasy. Still, he was a good match for her, his brawn against her fluid dexterity. Though they weren't the same class, for she fought with daggers and stealth and he with a giant shield and longsword, they found a rhythm together. It was nice to spar with someone that wasn't honor-bound to lose to her from time to time.  
  
"So you're a fighter, I wouldn't have guessed you for it." Vaia commented, panting as she sank down onto a stone bench next to him. She had just barely been declared the victor of their match, and was left breathless from the effort. Alistair had been good-natured about the defeat, claiming fatigue and dropping down onto a seat once it was over.  
  
"Not really, no. I've been trained, spent a lot of time training actually, to be a commander in the army if we should ever go to war again. It meant spending a lot of time with Teyrn Loghain, who doesn't like me at all, but it's been more pleasant than not in the end."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I just like the discipline of it all, learning, getting better with each time practicing. I've even had a little templar training, something I picked up in Highever amongst the guards."  
  
"Templar?"  
  
"Oh right, you don't have mages. Well, there are any number of mages, magic wielders, in Ferelden, some of them free from the Circle of Magi. Templars guard Circle mages and hunt down apostates. Mages outside the Circle." He clarified, seeing her bewildered look. "Anyway, you never know who you might fight, and so I kept up with a few things I learned there. One of their guardsmen was going to be a templar, but then left the Order before he made his vows, and passed on some of what he knew."  
  
"I see." Vaia said, though she really didn't. "It all sounds very interesting."  
  
Alistair laughed, the sound unexpectedly loud in the near-silent room. "No it isn't, not really. I just babble a lot when I talk. Most people just ignore me."  
  
Vaia fixed Alistair with her biggest, friendliest grin, elbowing him in the side. "Babble on then, Fereldan. I want to know about the surface, and I've never had a chance to talk to anyone at length before."  
  
He smiled back, giving her a mock bow. "I warn you, it's probably not as interesting as you think."  
  
"I would have said the same about Orzammar, if you'd asked."  
  
"True." He conceded. "We've got the whole visit to talk about it though, but I may not get another chance to get bested by you in a fight. What say you, my lady Aeducan, another round?" He got off the bench and extended a hand to her. Vaia took it, laughing.  
  
"You nearly got me last time. You're much stronger than I."  
  
"But you're faster, my lady. And a great challenge."  
  
She grinned, thinking that in his own way, Alistair was quite the challenge. And he was proving to be one that she was enjoying far more than she'd expected.


	7. Chapter 7

The first few days of his visit, Alistair was with Vaia nearly all of the time, a situation he didn't mind in the least. He'd grown quite fond of the dwarven princess, whom he counted amongst his friends.  
  
Orzammar was even more than he'd been told, and for once, Cailan had spoken the truth. He spotted the noble hunters at a party, grouped together, waiting to catch the eye of a man. There were women there that looked impossibly young, and others that of an age harder to determine, an edge beneath their beauty. All of them had a hopefulness about them that made conflicted feelings of respect and sadness roil within Alistair. Certainly, they were beautiful women, one even bearing the brand he'd come to realize meant she was casteless, but it didn't detract from her lovely face and sweet smile.  
  
In his eyes, all of those women paled in comparison to Vaia. She'd been kind and understanding after he'd sent the courtesan away, when he might have been mocked by others. That first day they'd spent together, she'd been dressed all in deep reds, confirming his belief that she was like a rose, with all the barbs and beauty that come with it. In his more poetic moments, he wished he had one to gift her, though he didn't know how it would have survived the journey. He was aware that she'd also been excluded from the meetings that her brother Trian and father attended with his father and brother, and he felt a solidarity with her because of it. Maybe if Prince Bhelen were older, he would have been stuck with him as a host during the days, but Vaia had explained that Bhelen was still considered too young by the rules of their society, and thus not fit to entertain esteemed guests.  
  
Alistair was glad things had fallen out this way, he didn't think her brother Bhelen would have been nearly as much fun to be around. He grew comfortable around her, and she'd taken to visiting him after dinner. Without his pre-arranged entertainment, he realized that she must have been checking on him to make sure that he was alright, but she always stayed to talk. Their meetings after dinner had become some of his favorite times in Orzammar, the chance to talk freely and privately with a friend was rare enough in Ferelden and an unexpected treat in the stone city.  
  
"I'm curious about the surface world." Vaia announced to Alistair, some time after he, Cailan and Maric had gone to the Assembly to sit and watch the last of the days proceedings. Dry stuff, she knew, but apparently Maric had a keen interest in politics of all kinds and kept up with the Assembly on his yearly visits.  
  
"Ask away, my lady." Alistair replied.  
  
"Don't 'my lady' me. You're just as royal as I am, albeit amongst humans. I'm Vaia and you're Alistair, at least when no one else is listening."  
  
Carefully, she folded her legs beneath her and settled her skirts, getting more comfortable in the chair she normally occupied in his room. It would have been scandalous for her to visit him each night, had he been one of her kind. As a human, most people wouldn't know what to think, perhaps attribute it to one of their strange customs, and very few would even entertain the idea of a dalliance with a human. It simply was not done.  
  
"Whatever the lady wishes." He answered, not trying to suppress his smile as she scowled at him.  
  
"I can tell you about us, if you're interested." She offered, thinking it only fair to let him ask as many questions as she planned to put to him.  
  
Alistair perked up. "I thought this might sound strange to ask, but I'm really curious about you sleeping."  
  
Vaia scrunched her nose in confusion, not understanding the statement. He took in her baffled face and laughed again, merriment echoing around the stone walls of his quarters.  
  
"Ha, Alistair's grace shines through again. I mean that dwarves don't dream, do you? When humans go to sleep, we enter the Fade, the place of dreams. Is there anything at all when you sleep?"  
  
Vaia considered the question, chewing on her bottom lip as she did. "It's nice. Warm." She finally answered.  
  
Alistair shook his head as if she'd sorely misunderstood, but Vaia went on. "The Stone cradles us, shelters us, and we return to it when we die. All I know is Stone. I think when I sleep, I am still protected by it, keeping me safe and warm when I am most vulnerable. Sometimes in sleep, I fall into memory, not reliving them, but remembering with the whole of me, though from a distance."  
  
"Fall into memory?"  
  
"I can hear my mother's voice again or see a me small enough to be bounced on Trian's knee. Things like that. I know they happened, they are my memories alone, but I don't think it's like your dreaming. We call it 'The Stone's Comfort'. What's it like for you?"  
  
"Humans and elves, I suppose too, go to the Fade, the realm of spirits. It's the place the Chantry says was the first realm of the Maker, but the Chantry says a lot of things. Anyway, it's mostly hard to recall, only mages can enter it while awake. But we dream while we sleep."  
  
"What do you dream about?" Vaia asked, and Alistair blushed.  
  
"Some of them are personal, you know. It's not a question you ask just anyone."  
  
"Are you just anyone?" Vaia asked with a quirked eyebrow, aware that she was flirting with Alistair.  
  
He seemed to know it too, or at least sense the offering in her words. "No, I hope I'm not." His voice was quiet when he answered, brushing over her like a tender caress.  
  
"Alistair, will you share your dreams with me?"  
  
He looked at her, then away at the wall, working out his words in his head. She sat patiently, waiting for him to compose his thoughts, letting the silence expand between them. "They aren't stories, really, just long winding roads filled with the fancy of our resting minds. Most I only remember in snatches, but I can perfectly recal every dream since I've come here." He took a deep breath before looking back at her, fixing her dark brown eyes with his hazel ones. "Recently, I've dreamt of real people, of places you and I visited here, of the time we've spent together. More than that, my lady, I don't feel comfortable saying."  
  
"Perhaps in time." Vaia said, the softness of her own voice startling her. Had anyone asked before, she wouldn't have thought that she had much gentleness in her, only grit and determination. But Alistair seemed to bring it out in her, or make her open to the possibility that it lay within her.  
  
"I think," She said in a louder voice, "it's your turn to ask a question."  
  
"Are we taking turns?" Alistair asked, and she simply shrugged at him.  
  
"What do the vambraces mean?" He'd noticed her second wearing decorated vambraces on his arms, and then saw that many of the other men in Orzammar seemed to have them as well, wearing them in a variety of styles. Though they seemed fashionable, there was something symbolic about them too, he could tell.  
  
Vaia threw her head back in mock frustration, marking the gesture with a long-suffering sigh. "Are you ready for a crash course on dwarven courtship?"  
  
He leaned towards her, looking puzzled but intrigued. "Explain away, my lady."  
  
She sat there, spending more than a half hour explaining the intricacies of their courting to him, asking questions about humans and trying to draw on similarities between the two cultures.  
  
"So your brother, Prince Cailan, he would wear gold ceremonial vambraces, but not the warrior caste ones, and they would have to encircle his wrist but not go too far past them, ending about here, since he's technically still single but not eligible." She got up and touched the spot on Alistair's arm where a betrothed man would wear his mark in Orzammar. "But you, you're not married are you?"  
  
"Not even close." Alistair answered.  
  
Vaia smirked, thinking about how different he was than his brother. Cailan seemed to wear his personality for all to see, she'd come to see he was genuinely good-natured and not given to deep thoughts, though he was no fool. He would rule well, provided he had good people to advise him, and a capable wife. Alistair was as like Cailan as not, the cynical second prince who saw more than he got credit for and no where near as insufferable as he imagined himself to be.  
  
"Well then, yours would be leather, with little adornment outside of your birthright, to announce your status. Single and eligible." She said, and then stopped herself. "Oh, unless you aren't looking for a relationship. That's a different story altogether."  
  
"I don't know what I'm looking for to be quite honest." Alistair sighed, gazing, miserably up at where Vaia stood over him.  
  
Vaia felt her heart swell just looking at his sad face. He really was lost, not playing a part for attention. She reached a hand out to him, fitting her palm around his strong jaw, recalling their earlier intimacy when he'd disclosed his dreams to her. "Just look out for yourself, alright? We do what we have to, but there's no limit to the number of people looking to exploit any flaw we might have." Withdrawing her hand, she intended to step away after giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, but Alistair caught her hand in his, and held to it.  
  
"Is that why you work so hard at being perfect?"  
  
The question struck her like a blow, and Vaia felt the air rush from her lungs. He hadn't even been in Orzammar that long, but he'd already seen through her. "My father expects much."  
  
"And you always deliver." He said. She could feel the gentle pressure of his hands, keeping hers within them with a light touch. At any time, she could break away, pull her hand back to her and end the line of conversation, but she didn't want it to end.  
  
"It's what I have to do. My family isn't poor, we don't have to fight for food, or too survive. We rule - and every life in this city depends upon us, our actions, our attention to detail, what we say is law. It's a heavy burden, and not one my family takes lightly. So if my father wants me to prepare by learning administration or knowing the languages of the surface, it's my honor to do so."  
  
Relinquishing her, he ran a hand through his hair, lost in thought. "I understand. I guess I never thought of myself the way you do, I'm just a bastard, a spare son not fit for ruling. You take your duties so seriously, even though you won't inherit the throne. I admire that."  
  
"It's nearly time for me to leave." Vaia said, uncomfortable with the compliment. It gave her unwelcome feelings, and she found herself too aware of his eyes on her. "I should let you get some sleep."  
  
"Will you, will you go with me to the Shaper tomorrow? I've wanted to hear of your history, and I'd like it if you came with me."  
  
Vaia smiled placidly, though her heart fluttered at the request. It was the first time Alistair had mentioned anything he'd wanted to do specifically, and made her feel as if he'd confided in her again. "Of course, Your Highness." She said, bowing her head. That was better, back to playing the part where she was the hosting princess and he the visiting prince, where she could retreat behind formality and forget how his large, rough hand holding hers made her stomach feel like it had dropped to her knees.  
  
Just before she got to the door, she looked over her shoulder and spoke.  
  
"You aren't just a bastard."  
  
"Excuse me?" Alistair looked up at her. He'd been lost in his own thoughts, contemplating the blocky design on the bedclothes.  
  
"You said 'I'm just a bastard.' You aren't defined by the martial status of your parents, Alistair. Your father wanted you, claimed you, loves you. You may not have the same mother as Prince Cailan, but your father, and I bet your nation, loves you just the same."  
  
Alistair had no response for her. It was words he'd heard before, but coming from Vaia, they seemed to carry more weight. She walked out of the room after a beat of silence, closing the heavy door almost soundlessly behind her. He didn't know how he felt about Vaia, their friendship was as unexpected as it was welcome, but he did know that Cailan was right. Orzammar was a foreign land and he a stranger, but that couldn't stop him from appreciating the sights or falling prey to the depths.


	8. Chapter 8

Vaia visited the Shaper with Alistair in the morning, but Kings Endrin and Maric, along with Princes Cailan and Alistair were to take a meal with Harrowmont, which she wasn't invited to attend. Harrowmont was almost more traditional than her father, and wouldn't have invited an unwed woman to dine with them, not for an informal luncheon anyway. It made her angry, she detested being excluded, but reluctantly reminded herself that she had other duties to attend to, things that she'd put off to spend time with Alistair. Vaia was after all, the head of her house, a role that she'd inherited upon her mother's death, though she delegated much of that away to the older concubines and her aunts.  
  
As he'd requested they ventured out early to visit to the Shaper, and she'd picked up a few items of interest while Alistair spoke with the historians. He asked a great deal of questions, mainly about dwarven history - things she'd learned before and had forgotten time and again, and Vaia found herself itching to explore the stacks on her own. When Alistair asked about the Grey Wardens, she made her chance to escape.  
  
Running a hand over the books bound in nug leather, she let her mind wander. It was nice to just be amongst the books and know Alistair was nearby. As she browsed the aisles, someone brought out her favorite story, a book about the Paragon Aeducan. She read it often, to remember her heritage and inspire herself to greatness. Thanking the attendant, she thought that would perhaps lend it to Alistair to read that night.  
  
The gilt inlay lettering on a wide spine caught her eye and she found herself perusing a book about the human Chantry. It was a boring, mostly scholarly look at it, but it piqued her curiosity. Heading further down the aisle, she looked at the books, reading the names on them. The section was small, but it was what she wanted.  
  
Not wanting to broadcast what she was looking for, so she continued on her own, searching out more books about the surface. The Shaperate libraries and filings were well known to her, though in recent years she hadn't as much time to spend in the place as she'd liked. Still, she had read history and studied the knowledge of books in order to hold her own in matters of law and politics. There were many people that would like to subvert the wording of arcane dictates to suit their own purposes. It wouldn't do for her to give in due to her own ignorance.  
  
It wouldn't have been hard to ask a Shaper to find the tomes for her, but she wanted to look and browse, to read odds and ends. There was no point in troubling someone, not when they were so enthusiastically answering questions behind her. Listening to Alistair made her smile, just a for a moment as she searched the shelves. Perhaps she could impress him with her curiosity, or at least find something smart to ask a question about.  
  
In the end, she left with a tome by the Paragon Gherlon the Blood-Risen, who had an account of his time on the surface before he'd returned to the dwarves. An interesting man, born casteless, he braved the surface before coming back to win the throne. Of course, it was many, many years ago, before Orzammar became the last city, but perhaps an account written from a dwarven perspective would help her.  
  
"Did you find out what you wanted to know?" She asked as they left the building. It was just a short walk back to the palace, but she liked the brief illusion of privacy between them, though there were guards surrounding the couple.  
  
"More than I ever thought possible to know. Almost too much, to be honest. I'll never remember a word of it." He answered, and she laughed. He was walking close to her, and should she have reached out her hand, she could have taken his. The urge to do so was overwhelming, walking with him at her side felt correct in a way she couldn't explain.  
  
To cover her awkwardness, she cleared her throat, realizing too late that it seemed like she was going to say something important, and she'd gotten Alistair's attention. Face flushing, she coughed once and had to clear her throat again before she could speak properly. "One of the Shapers remembered that I liked this book and brought it to me. I thought you might like to read it. It's about my ancestor, the Paragon Aeducan." Vaia said, offering him the book.  
  
"Really? This is about your ancestor? I'm...honored to read this, Princess Vaia." He said, real enthusiasm in his voice. "I wish I had thought to bring you something about my family - well my father's family. There's loads of dusty books about Calenhad the Silver Knight and his descendants. I would have liked to give you a gift."  
  
"Maybe next time, Alistair." She said, smiling at him.  
  
He looked askance at her, but nodded. "Perhaps."  
  
She knew he was thinking the same thing she was. There wasn't likely to be another time for him to come to Orzammar - at least not on an official visit like this. The visits would fall to either Cailan or Maric, Alistair simply didn't have enough power to warrant his own visits, unless he was named ambassador or something similar. That possibility was a slender hope at best, for he'd have to ask for the creation of the post. As for her, there was no way she would be allowed to visit the surface at all, the very suggestion was unthinkable. It was a sobering thought for both of them.  
  
Inside the palace they'd parted, he getting changed to for his meal, and she to go oversee the household duties she'd delegated to others while she was busy. It was a startling change back to her mundane reality, and she realized that the day would soon come when she'd have to resume her duties full time, without Alistair. It felt like a punishment.  
  
#####  
  
He hadn't lied before, when he told her about his dreams, just hadn't been entirely truthful. Alistair dreamed of Vaia, and only her, every night since he'd come to Orzammar. Sometimes they were nothing but fancy, scenes that would never come to be, like the two of them in his bed in Denerim, or on a secluded stretch of beach on the coast of Highever, sunlight spilled across her skin as waves lap at their feet. Other times, he would close his eyes and remain in Orzammar, walking hand in hand with her, or see Vaia's face looming above his in a shared bed.  
  
In all of his life, never before had he actually envisioned himself making love to anyone, thought himself master of his urges. Before this trip, he'd thought he'd know desire, but he recognized his folly wholeheartedly now. In Highever, he'd wanted Elissa Cousland with a ferocious ache left by her kisses, but what he felt for Vaia was something wholly different from the outset. There was a kindred feeling between them, a bond more than physical. The longing to be near her, the need it created had crept up on his, infesting his dreams first, and then his waking moments with her.  
  
Alistair's mind couldn't help wandering to thoughts of her, no more than his body could help responding to those thoughts when sleeping and vulnerable. With as much time as they spent together, he found himself at the mercy of his mind every evening, reliving their conversations, able to perfectly recall her face and expressions. She was friendly with him, but as practiced at covering her expression as she was with her blades. At first, he couldn't discern much more than she gave in conversation, but he watched her all the same, forming his own analysis of her character.  
  
By everything he saw and knew of her, Vaia was an exceptional woman. A devoted daughter and sister, she had a keen mind and was well-liked by her people. He also found her beautiful, kind and smart, and admired her sense of duty. Had she been human, he would have happily wed her after their first few days of acquaintance, but alas, she was not. She was a dwarven princess, his hostess, off-limits, and not in the least interested in him. At least, if she was, he had seen no indication of it, she was simply very nice.  
  
All of these feelings were why he couldn't share his dreams completely with her when she asked the night before. Alistair had considered it, her soft-spoken request, laced with a flirtatious edge had nearly caused him to spill his secret desires. He imagined that many people had given in to her questioning, flattered by the attention and undone by her unassuming nature. Many, but not him. He simply couldn't, and instead of lying, which seemed like an affront to her goodness, he'd simply chosen modesty, not having the confidence to say, "My lady, I dream of you riding me hard and fast until we've both taken our pleasure and I'm happy as I've never been." Somehow, he thought that she might just take that the wrong way.  
  
Cailan, though occupied with shadowing Maric most days and remembering the protocols and ways of the dwarven people, had noticed his brother growing close with the Princess Aeducan. He thought it may be time for some brotherly advice, if only to keep Alistair from giving her puppy eyes where everyone could see.  
  
"Alistair, how are you finding your time in Orzammar?" Cailan asked. He cornered his brother after the luncheon at House Harrowmont, when they had some time to themselves after the meal. Alistair had planned to see if Vaia wanted to spar, but Cailan had cornered him first.  
  
"It's fine. The city is more than interesting enough to spend years here, just learning and looking around. How are things with Maric?" Alistair asked. Between the two of them, they always referred to their father as Maric, though never to his face.  
  
"Boring, as per usual. I'd much rather be in your shoes. The Lady Aeducan is a charming hostess. A great beauty as well. I told you the dwarven maids were something else."  
  
Alistair bristled at the comment, but he could see in his face that Cailan meant no offense by it. His brother wore his easy smile, but was otherwise unreadable. "She is gracious." Alistair answered cautiously.  
  
"Indeed. I'd be tired of you after the first day." Cailan mused, half-chuckling to himself, but then turned to his brother and looked him full in the face. "Alistair, let me be plain. I can see in your face that you care for her. I would caution you against any intentions you have."  
  
"Would you?" Alistair said, trying, and failing to keep the edge out of his voice.  
  
A look of confusion crossed Cailan's face, and a moment later he frowned in understanding. Holding up both hands in a gesture of peace, he went on. "Brother, I only want to help. Princess Vaia is stunning and doesn't object to your company. Under any other circumstances, she might be a good match for you, but we are her father's guests. The whole of House Aeducan might rise up against us if they suspected any inappropriateness between you two."  
  
Chastened, Alistair let his anger subside, shaking his head to cast off the unwanted emotions. "I know, and I'm sorry." He turned away from Cailan, pacing the room. "No matter what I feel, it's not like that, she's very proper. We're just friends, I swear it."  
  
"See that it stays that way." Cailan cautioned, but then his tone fell back into its more familiar, teasing lilt. "She likes you." He stated, almost sing-song as the words came out.  
  
"What? No, she's just stuck with me."  
  
Cailan came over and slung around his brother's shoulders. "No, I may not have spent much time with her, but she is fond of you. Those dark eyes soften when they come to land on you, though she tries to hide it. Come, let us get properly drunk while Maric isn't making me go to some infernal meeting with him. Perhaps I'll be too sauced to go to the next one and you'll be forced to take my place."  
  
At their father's name, a creeping sense of dread worked through Alistair. "You won't mention this to him, will you?"  
  
"Of course not, dear brother. Your secret is safe with me. I can be trusted with state secrets, trade negotiations and all matters of love." Cailan said, laughing. "You just make sure Maric doesn't guess for himself. He notices everything, so guard it carefully if you want it to be kept a secret."  
  
"I will." Alistair said stoutly as they exited the room. Just how he was supposed to do it, he wasn't sure, but the last thing he needed was for his father to find out. Maker, he might even make him go back to Denerim alone, a thought horrifying enough to make Alistair sedate and thoughtful as he drank with Cailan and several members dwarven nobles.


	9. Chapter 9

The book Vaia had given to him lay open on the bedside table, but he wasn't reading it. The Paragon Aeducan wasn't nearly as interesting to him as the Princess Aeducan. Still, he'd meant to read more of it, not because it was so interesting, but simply because she'd given it to him. He wished he could take it back with him to Denerim, when this was all over. Alistair frowned up at the ceiling, not wanting to think about this visit ending. It would, sooner than he liked, but until then, all he wanted to do was enjoy it, and spend time with Vaia.  
  
The knock he'd been waiting for sounded, and a guard poked his head in. "Lady Aeducan requests permission to visit." He announced in formal, clipped tones as he had every night since Alistair had come to Orzammar.   
  
"Permission granted." Alistair said, sitting up and righting his clothes. He wanted to look smart and dashing for Vaia, but he never quite succeeded. That night, he had wrinkled his clothes magnificently by laying in bed, and his hair was plastered to his head where he'd been laying down.  
  
"Hello, Alistair." Vaia said, smiling at him as she entered the large guest quarters. Maker, she was so graceful. Had he not seen her, he would have thought she'd changed to come visit him, for her gown was as pristine as when she'd shown up at breakfast, unlike his wrinkled doublet and sagging hose.  
  
"Are you enjoying the book?" She asked, nodding at the open tome.   
  
"It's interesting to read of your history, my lady. I admit to not knowing much about the dwarves before they all lived in Orzammar." He said. Vaia gave him a sad smile, but didn't comment. He'd heard some of their stories from the Shaper, but it was still hard for him to believe that the dwarves had once been so numerous and lived all across Thedas before the darkspawn came. They seemed so few and isolated, hearing about their empire seemed almost like a fairytale.  
  
"Since you've been studying our history, I've been reading about human lands, a book by one of our Paragons that went to the surface." She informed him, sitting down across from him.  
  
"A Paragon went to the surface? That sounds like an adventure story."  
  
"He was casteless first, then went to the surface and came back to become Paragon. It's fascinating, I will lend you the text when I'm done reading it."  
  
"I'd like that." He said, eager to have anything she gave him. "It's very different here, and I wonder would a dwarf find the surface just as confusing."  
  
Vaia frowned. "Are you confused, Alistair? Can I help with something?"  
  
"No, no, that isn't it. I mean, the history and culture here is so long and varied, longer than anything we have in Ferelden. It makes me feel like I could spend a lifetime here and never really know Orzammar, but dwarves adapt to the surface easy enough."  
  
"Some don't have a choice. The Stone is said to reject people, and I gather life on the surface would be preferable for those poor souls. I don't know how I would find it. Interesting perhaps, and likely just as foreign as you find Orzammar."  
  
"You'd find your way." Alistair said confidently. "I'm sure of it."  
  
"There's something I read in the book that I don't understand." Vaia said.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"What I'm given to believe is a regular occurrence in your lands." She shook her head, thinking that the question sounded crazy, even in her head, but she had to ask it. "It seems strange, but does water truly fall from the sky?"  
  
Whatever he'd been expected, it hadn't been that. Alistair bent double laughing at her query. She didn't quite understand what was so funny about it, but she let him finish.  
  
Still giggling softly to himself, Alistair answered. "Yes, we call it rain. It's not just water from the sky though. Well, okay it is, but it can sometimes be accompanied by other weather, like thunder or lightning."  
  
"I've seen lightning runes before. Is it like that?"   
  
"Exactly, but grander. It's actually quite pretty, if you're indoors looking out at it." He turned away from her, suddenly stricken. "I wish you could come to the surface, Vaia. I think you'd like it there. I could show you things, take you places."  
  
For one brief instant, everything she felt about Alistair welled up within her. The thought of him leaving, going back to his surface life and wanting her there with him made her head spin. Before she could douse the impulse within herself, she got up and stood next to him. His eyes were questioning as he looked up at her, and she swiftly brought her lips to his. It was nothing really, soft and quick, the kiss chaste and she pulled away quickly.  
  
"I've never had a friend like you, Alistair." She said softly. He didn't respond and she couldn't read his normally expressive eyes. There was something dazed about him, and her insecurities got the better of her. A kiss was a mistake, a very big mistake. Oh Ancestors, she'd just completely embarrassed herself.   
  
Worried that she'd committed some grievous error in human etiquette, she backed away quickly. "Ancestors, I'm not sure what came over me!" She gasped. "Forgive me, Prince Alistair. It's best if I leave now." She sputtered, and fled from the room as fast as her heels could take her.  
  
He was still glued in place, absolutely stunned as he heard her leave. She'd kissed him. The softness of her mouth pressed up against his briefly, far too quick, had rendered him dumb. Unable to stop her flight, he watched as she left. When he came to, Alistair wondered if he could have said or done anything to make her stay, but Maker, he had never kissed anyone before besides Elissa Cousland. There were no lines for wooing in his lexicon, and he just sat there not knowing what to do next, until he forced himself to go to bed.  
  
There was nothing more to be done, she'd kissed him without thinking. Vaia wasn't sure who was more shocked about it, her or Alistair. Definitely her, she thought to herself as she got in bed. He seemed a little dazed afterward, and had said nothing, not even when she fled. She shook her head at her own folly. Alistair was a human prince. He'd want a long-legged beauty from his own nobility, not her.   
  
Tomorrow, she would apologize, if she could face the shame. Until then, she would try for a dreamless sleep where she didn't make idiot mistakes and kiss humans.  
  
#####  
  
In the morning, she didn't see Alistair outside of breakfast, where he was subdued and distracted. All of those times when they'd been alone together, and the one time when she needed to talk to him, he was busy all day. Still, she looked for an opportunity at breakfast to pull him aside, but no opening ever came. Maybe in the evening, there would be an appropriate time to apologize to him. It would have to wait, since she couldn't do it in a room full of people, but she hated to sit on the words all day, letting them get mixed up in her head. How could she have been so foolish? Vaia had been chiding herself all morning, distracted as the dwarven court played out around her.   
  
She didn't recall eating her breakfast, or even where the humans were off to for the day, consumed with her own thoughts. If people spoke to her, she didn't hear them, but luckily her attention wasn't demanded immediately. There was no need for her to speak until after her father had made his rulings and people were milling about the throne room. A hand tugged at her arm, pulling her away from the center of the crush of people. It was Lord Dace who had taken her aside, a false look of calm on his face.  
  
"Are you alright, my Lady Aeducan? You seem distracted today."  
  
Vaia summoned up a smile, hoping that she could play the devoted daughter convincingly enough to be left alone. "I'm sorry, milord. I simply have much to prepare for in the coming days, and my mind was elsewhere."  
  
"I see. You are busy with our human visitors?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, there is to be a great feast celebrating Prince Cailan soon, and I was going over the details in my mind."  
  
Lord Dace didn't lose his concerned frown, and leaned close to her to speak. "Princess Vaia, perhaps it would be more prudent to let your guests, particularly the youngest prince, have some time on their own in Orzammar."  
  
She made a face, that was the opposite of what her father had bade her. "King Endrin bade me otherwise."  
  
"Then you should convince him to let someone else babysit the young human princeling for a while, lest your reputation be ruined."  
  
"My reputation?"  
  
"I only say this because of the long friendship between you and I." He began, lowering his voice. It was true, they had once been friends, and he'd wanted more, when she did not. She'd never been able to discern if he truly liked her or the name Aeducan more. He continued, barely audible in the crowded room. "There are whispers about him touching your hand at the Shaperate, of the two of you sitting too close together at mealtime."  
  
Vaia made herself laugh as if the accusations were incredulous, though inside she fumed. They would say anything to destroy her, because Alistair had most certainly never touched her hand in public. That was an outright lie, and it solidified her dislike of the young Lord Dace. She could defend herself, but when they brought Alistair into it, it felt somehow more malicious than the usual accusations.  
  
In the end, she got Lord Dace to leave her be, becoming imperious and threatening to tell her father about the accusations. Rarely did she ever play the haughty princess, but in that case, it served her well.  
  
The trouble was, later that day, Bhelen later echoed the same sentiments. "Watch yourself, big sister. I may be young, but I've heard things...those humans can be tricky."  
  
"Even more tricky than we dwarves, who invented politics? I doubt it." Vaia said. Bhelen laughed.  
  
"You're probably right." He admitted, smiling sheepishly.   
  
But he didn't fail to notice that when Alistair entered the dining room, his eyes always looked for Vaia, sparkling with something more than friendship. What interested Bhelen was that his sister always seemed to be looking for Prince Alistair as well. Where they had been cordial to each other before, they were shy, as if there was something between the two. Bhelen, excluded from all meals except dinner, kept careful watch on them. Others may think him a child, but he saw everything, and knew far more than he was given credit for. Even Vaia underestimated him, when they could have been allies.


	10. Chapter 10

Once she'd been alerted, Vaia found herself conscious of the stares, hearing the whispers. It was all so inconvenient, to find herself in the middle of rumors that were, for once, based in truth. She had feelings for Alistair, and if they'd been inappropriately close, it was because she let down her guard for the sweet man. Vaia, raised to be a queen in her own right, should have known better, and it was up to her to correct the mistake.  
  
In order to protect Alistair, to protect herself, she formed a plan. Distasteful to her mind, but she had to go through with this. Courtship, a long and drawn out ritual for even the lesser castes, was downright stupid when it came to royalty. She and her intended had to officially declare that they were seeing each other, and get the approval of her father. The problem was finding an intended that she could stomach for more than a short while, and not comparing him to Alistair.  
  
But she couldn't let rumors go around about her shirking her duty for a human, and she couldn't let him be tarred by the same brush. If her sorrow was a river, she'd have been swept away in the current that day, as she came to her grim conclusion. She needed to court someone, but before she did, she had to apologize to Alistair for kissing him.  
  
She had to find Gorim, because she wasn't going to be able to do this all herself. A male, preferably someone close to her, should deliver her missive, a gesture of intent. Then if it was accepted, and Vaia was fairly confident it would be, no one would dare turn down King Endrin's daughter, they would go on supervised dates together. Her courting rituals were even more laborious and archaic than other nobles, simply because her father would have it no other way.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this, my lady?" Gorim asked her, his face uncertain. He was concerned, and a little hurt, she could tell.  
  
"Gorim, this isn't about wanting to court. It's about protecting myself." She sighed, the look on his face displaying his obvious ignorance of the situation. "There are rumors, about myself and Prince Alistair. To alleviate the fears and concerns that we are growing too close, I thought that I might take a suitor, or at least look as if I am entertaining the idea."  
  
Gorim nodded. "But you are." He said simply.  
  
"I am what?"   
  
"In love with the human prince." He finished. "I can see it growing between the two of you." His laugh was a soft, sad sound. "If he were a dwarf, you'd already be engaged. The way he looks at you, as if you're made of gold and laced with lyrium. I know the look of a smitten man."  
  
"Oh Gorim." Vaia sank down into a chair. "I don't know what else to do, but I cannot deny what you've already seen."  
  
Gorim was the last person she wanted to hear a lecture from but she got one anyway. I'm just trying to caution you against falling too hard." He finished, ending his soliloquy on the same note he'd started on.  
  
She knew all of this, but none of it mattered. When the anxiety had gripped her and her first thought was Alistair, she knew. It was already too late, her feeling too deep. Her kiss last night may have been ill-advised, but it wasn't a mistake, at least not on her part. The feelings were there, and apparently, she hadn't even been hiding them all that well.  
  
"You will make the arrangements we spoke of, yes?" Vaia asked Gorim, though there was no need, she knew he as soon as he left her chambers he would set things in motion.  
  
"Of course, my lady. You needn't worry. By this time tomorrow, you'll be matched up properly."  
  
"Just what I wanted." Vaia said dryly. Gorim tried not to smile.  
  
######  
  
Much as he had been the night before, Alistair laid in his bed, waiting for Vaia. He hadn't spent time with her all day, which was becoming increasingly common during his visit. It was as if once he'd formed a connection, they were determined to break it and fill his life with far less interesting things. To tell the truth, nothing could distract him from her, short of his pants bursting into flame and that would last only as long as the heat.  
  
His head was filled with the Princess Aeducan, and he waited patiently for her. She hadn't missed a single visit with him since he'd come to Orzammar.  
  
Even lost in his thoughts as he was, he noticed that she was late. Much too late to simply be running behind schedule. Something important must have happened, or she was avoiding him. He wondered if she would even come, after what happened last night. Maker, he'd been kissed and acted like a complete fool. She probably hated him for siting there stupidly, his face stuck on astonished, while she ran out the room. If she came back, he would show her what that kiss meant to him, would gather up the courage to say what he'd been too dumbstruck to say the night before.  
  
No one announced her when she came in this time. She simply swept into his room, a look of grim determination on her face. Alistair started to frown, but caught himself. He didn't want her to think that she was unwelcome, rather than the grimace on her pretty face.  
  
"Alistair I need to..."  
  
"Vaia. We should..." They both began at the same time, but she trailed off and Alistair kept going.   
  
"Look, I shouldn't have let you go last night. Not without this." He said leaning down to kiss her.   
  
It was the most recent of many times he'd silently thanked Elissa Cousland for teaching him how to kiss, but the first while he was actually kissing someone else. Shock made her rigid for a moment, but it passed quickly, her soft mouth acquiescing to his. As they kissed, his hand sought out hers, fingers twining between her own shorter, smaller digits that somehow fit perfectly into his own. It was slow, more about feeling her hand on his back, of his face touching hers, of her lips parting under his and a shy meeting of their tongues than expressing any heat. Alistair could kiss her forever, but Vaia pulled back slightly, and he took her cue.  
  
He straightened up, smiling down at her. "Now, what were you saying?" He asked.  
  
Vaia grimaced. "I don't want you to be alarmed by anything you might hear about me being courted by someone." She said.  
  
"That's not what I was expecting to hear."  
  
"It's not what I wanted to say, believe me." She heaved a heavy sigh and took his hand, leading him to the bed. She took a minute to settle herself upon it and then drew in a deep breath before continuing. "My brother, Bhelen, said something to me recently and I've just started to see it myself. The nobles here, they tend to talk - it's a way of life really." She gave a sheepish half-laugh, knowing that was a part of it as much as she was the fodder. "They can see how...close, we've gotten and it's been raising some concerns."  
  
Alistair crossed his arms over his chest and looked out at her from unreadable eyes, saying nothing.  
  
"But I care for you, and I didn't want you to be hurt. We have a memory as long as the Stone and even more permanent. You and your family don't deserve to be tarnished by my foolish heart." She finished, forcing herself to keep his gaze as she did.   
  
It felt silly to repeat it all, after she'd just said it to Gorim, and she felt like she was leaving gaps in her explanation, searching for words that just wouldn't come. There were ideas that Vaia knew she wasn't rightly conveying to Alistair, who was no dwarf himself and didn't know much of their culture, aside from what he may have gleaned during his visit. There was more, so much more, things that someone not born in Orzammar would never see or understand.  
  
"So if I hear this right, you care for me, so you're going to be with another man?"  
  
"Well, yes. But that won't happen for a while, there are formalities to go through first. It will probably be months after you return to Denerim before I even go out with him." She clarified.  
  
"Vaia, I can't understand this. I know about nobles and appearances, but is it so wrong to be close with a human?" Color was rising on his face and she noticed that he wasn't upset with her, but rather just upset.   
  
She reached out and grabbed his doublet, pulling him to her mouth. She clamped a heated, hard kiss on his lips, forceful and passionate. Within seconds he responded, returning the kiss in kind, matching her for ardor. She could feel him breathing hard through his nose, one hand on her back, the other behind her head, bringing her closer.   
  
When they broke apart, both were dizzy and out of breath. Vaia's voice was low as she said, "We can't hide that. It's always there, beneath the surface, and people are starting to see it."  
  
He was silent in response, sitting too close, her body attuned to him after their kiss. "Cailan knows." When she whipped her head toward him, he held up a hand. "He cautioned me against letting it show, but apparently I've been unsuccessful."  
  
For some reason that made her laugh. Mad giggles spilled from her, quiet at first, but then louder and louder, losing their restraint. Like a dam bursting over laughter came from her until it was unbridled and wild, and Alistair was doubled over with her. Neither one of them really knew why they were laughing, only that it felt like the only appropriate action at that point. When it died down, her face was covered in tear tracks and her sides ached. Alistair flopped back on the bed, grinning up at the ceiling.  
  
"So you and me?" Vaia said, giving him a sidelong glance. Her voice was cool and even, but her heart hammered anxiously in her chest. According to everything she knew, there shouldn't be anything between the two of them, a dwarf and human, an outsider and a princess. But every instinct within her said yes, there should, and that she'd always regret not being brave in this one instance. She could be brave enough, for herself, for him, but only just for a little while.  
  
Alistair reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer to him on the bed, with Vaia offering no resistance. He brought her hand to his lips and planting a kiss on the knuckles. "I'd be honored to spend all the time I have left with you, my lady."  
  
"I was hoping you'd say that." Vaia whispered, just before he hooked an arm around her shoulder and brought her low for another kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

She didn't stay that first night. Lingering later than usual, but not enough to arouse suspicion, Vaia left Alistair as she was nearly falling into a happy sleep, thoroughly kissed and content.

There wasn't much time to be had, but then again there never really was for them. She spent as much of it as she could with Alistair in private, though her daily tasks now included being 'courted' by her new paramour, the second son of House Helmi. The second son instead of the first, because Denek Helmi, though a deshyr was thought to be too liberal, oft drinking at Tapster's with the lower classes and thus unacceptable for Lady Aeducan. Had she any opinion on the matter, she might have preferred Denek, but Vaia found that she didn't rightly care. 

All of her romantic thoughts were occupied by Alistair and he alone. No fake courtship could take that from her. It seemed like she couldn't get enough of his laugh, the prickly feeling his stubble left on her skin after they'd kissed, the taste of his lips. He had a great sense of humor that came out the longer they spent together, and a touchingly sweet side that was insecure and self-depricating. Vaia liked every facet she discovered about him, even the ones she didn't like. Love made her gaze turn rosy near Alistair, oblivious to any of his shortcomings. There was never any talk of the futility of it all, though it gnawed at both of them, making things urgent and intense whenever they were alone together.

The rumors hadn't exactly died out, but there were less of them in the run up to the celebration for Prince Cailan. Cailan himself was exceptionally good at charming crowds, and had a good deal of Orzammar in the palm of his hand after a few more public outings and appearances. Alistair was concerned about his brother. The jovial face he wore for others didn't last long once they had privacy. He suspected Cailan was upset about the end of their visit as he was, albeit for different reasons.

The end of their visit would be capped with the celebrations, in order to send their guests off in style. A Grand Proving would be held, and a party afterwards.

Neither she nor Alistair made mention of the end of the visit looming over them. She did notice that she stayed a little longer each night, and their kisses grew more exploratory, more desperate at times. Their nights together fought against the new distance in their days. Both were determined to not give any hint as to their relationship, and he taught himself to seem casual when he wanted to do nothing but gaze at her, to remain impassive as pointed glances tried to find a connection between the two of them.

The nights were theirs, and he did more than just stare at her as their numbers began to dwindle. The anticipation built between the two of them, and more than once Alistair thought to approach Cailan and ask for advice about how far to take it, but thought better of it. His brother would be knowledgeable but not especially discreet. The teasing would last forever, and eventually someone would find out. Pride and secrecy demanded that Alistair fumble through it without guidance, relying on Vaia to kindly share her limited knowledge with him.

"Have you ever, been with someone?" He asked her, blushing at the words.

"Yes." Vaia didn't elaborate, but added, "He wasn't as special as you are." Her eyes were almost sad when she answered, and had it been another time he would have asked her more about it. But right then, Alistair's thoughts were occupied with how her hair hung in loose waves hitting the deep swell of her breast. The square neckline of her bottle green silk gown emphasizing her pleasing curves nicely, and making him so nervous his voice was unsteady.

Alistair nodded, letting the explanation that didn't quite soothe go. "I think we should spend the night together before I go, but not tonight." Vaia looked her confusion and Alistair tried to explain.

"I want to be with you, but I have no clue what I'd be doing. I don't want to ruin what we have."

Vaia reached over and took his hand, patting it with both of her own. She understood - he was nervous. "We can wait to do the deed, Alistair. But there are other ways we can be physical." She added, smiling saucily at him.

"I, um, don't know what you mean." Oh, that wasn't good. The smile she bestowed upon him was hard to read, making nervous anticipation well within him. He could feel the blush from the roots of his hair down to his toes. He had an idea of what she meant, but only because Cailan talked too much. Even the Maker couldn't have made him admit it aloud, because she might have expectations then and he really only knew of any sexual activity from drunken boasting and talk intended to make him blush like a maiden. 

"Oh, there are things I can show you, my prince. As long as you're comfortable with it. You can save your virginity for some other night, because I've got plenty of other tricks."

Alistair felt his whole body blush at her suggestion. If it was possible to be even more embarrassed, he was. Turned on without a doubt, but definitely embarrassed as well. At this point, he would have done whatever she suggested just simply to save himself from getting into the beet-colored range with his blushes. He definitely wasn't imagining it this time, her grin had definitely taken a turn towards the evil kind. But that wasn't such a bad thing, was it?

"Lay down." Vaia murmured.

"Are you, um, certain?" Any question was just an attempt for him to stall, to get his head wrapped around the fact that she was serious and pushing him onto his back. Beneath him, the normally soft blankets seemed too rough, his skin hyperaware of every sensation. The crack in his voice, the higher than normal pitch of it betrayed him without his elaboration. Vaia's hands were still insistent, but gentler as she brushed a hair from his forehead.

"We can stop." She whispered, hot breath caressing his ear. Was it possible for ears to feel sexy? Ears didn't seem sexy until she whispered in his, lips just faintly brushing over the shell of it as she spoke. That was definitely sexy.

"No! No. I just, I have no idea what I'm doing." He gulped.

"That's why you're not on top." She countered, smiling at him. Her smile was more reassuring this time, and he relaxed a tiny bit against the bed. "But seriously, you're either going to stop us or let go and enjoy the new experience. Which is it going to be?"

Alistair ran and hand up her back until it tangled in the dark waves of her hair and down again, his caress soft. "I want this."

Vaia didn't answer, but smiled before she leaned in to kiss him. His mouth slanted against hers, letting her tongue in at its first teasing pass. Mind too full of thoughts and worries that he thought he might just ruin everything, Alistair concentrated on kissing. He felt her lips against his own, softness and pressure, her tongue touching his. Without intent other than exploration, he let his hands run over her. They'd done this part before, but knowing they'd go further than mere kissing gave it an edge it normally lacked, making him ever more bold. A nipple puckered through silk caught the attention of a thumb, and his attention was diverted, circling the hard bead and listening to her sigh in response to his touch.

Had Alistair not been so distracted, he would have detected her nimble hands unlacing his trousers or any of the number of other small movements she made to disrobe him. But he noticed little other than Vaia's body, too timid to go further and entranced by what he'd already encountered. He went to place a kiss on her collarbone when a hand ventured into his breeches, the light touch making him start. They'd always stayed on top of clothes before, though the bodices of Vaia's gowns did dip low enough for him to kiss her neck and the tops of her breasts without manipulation.

"It's okay," he apologized quickly. The hand halted its descent at his reaction and he so desperately wanted it to go further. "I'm just as skittish as a colt right now. But just keep doing what you're doing."

Vaia chuckled against his skin, the vibrations on her lips as she kissed his jaw. "Anything you say, Alistair."

The feeling of warmth not his own was unexpectedly nice he decided as her hand stroked him through his smallclothes. It was more than just nice as she gathered momentum with one hand, and made exploratory touches with the other. A hand cupped his balls, invoking a feeling that he lacked words to describe - too intense and new to be anything but overwhelmingly pleasurable. Finger delving even lower, she caressed the strip of skin beneath his balls but before she got to his arse. His response to her touch there was less fervid, but was also less erotic.

"That tickles." He breathed, hardly even able to get the words out through the crush of sensations he was feeling. Ticklish could be fun, but he didn't think that was what she was after with this endeavor.

Vaia smiled up at him, ceasing the contact and moving on. A breath or two later he felt himself relax again, letting himself enjoy the upward sweep of her fingers tracing the contours of his body. One hand still pumped him steadily, but slow, as if she could feel his climax in the distance and was determined to keep it at bay. There was only so long it could be held off, especially one she began pressing wet kisses against his bare skin. Shirt lifted, his stomach and hips were properly exposed and peppered with kisses. The sweetness turned heated as she licked his belly and followed the trail of hair from his navel downward.

He lifted his hips to get his breeches down further, simultaneously trying to kick off his boots. Vaia laughed at his eager movements, dropping another fluttery kiss on his hip bone. He groaned in response. She released him to help him push his trousers down, and he mourned the loss of her hand wrapped around him. His would never truly suffice again, not after feeling her strong, small hand wrapped around his length.

It took no time for him to be sufficiently undressed, and she turned her attention back to making him moan. Her hands resumed their earlier work, this time free of cloth restraints. Slowly, she moved them up and down his shaft, then took the head of him in her mouth. There was nothing that could have prepared him for the sensation, and he felt his moan of appreciation through every inch of his body.

Heat and pressure, hard wetness surrounded him, and Alistair was sure that he was going to pass out. The flat of her tongue circled around his cock, as if she were trying to discern the taste of it. When she suckled him, there was alternating pressure, light and hard, intense and a reprieve when he wanted nothing more for her to do it all over again. Her hands teased as her mouth worked, touching his balls, the inside of his thighs, ghosting over his arse. 

Then the intensity of it all caught up to him. The buzz of his release sped through him with such velocity it bordered on too much, hips jerking of their own accord as he bit back a full-throated moan. Hazy eyes caught a glimpse of Vaia, just the top of her head, long dark hair spread around her shoulders and falling onto him. If he could feel the gentle sweep of her hair against him, he couldn't discern it amongst the tumult.

A litany of stars sparked into being before his eyes as he came. She continued to suck, but with less vigor, taking her cues from him. He could hear himself gasping, grunting and panting, reverentially murmuring her name - none of it making any sense, but none of it needed to. Alistair felt majestic - better than if he'd drank the most expensive honey mead, the languor rolling through him, replacing the urgency that had rocketed into his veins so recently. No thoughts could form in his head, spent body unable to do more than just enjoy the feelings as they rolled in like the tide.

He lay back against the bed, chest heaving. If it wasn't instinct to breathe, he surely would have died several times over by now. He felt her moving, lamenting once more the removal of her from around his now deflated cock. The soft kisses she placed on his stomach were nearly too much, and he made inarticulate sounds of protest that came too late, well after she was finished. Alistair let the stars dance in front of his eyes for a moment longer, then opened them to see where Vaia was.

She was right next to him, propped up on an elbow. There was pride in her gaze, as if she were admiring her handiwork in turning him into a quivering mess. An arm crossed his ragdoll body and he pulled her to his chest.

"I love you." He said gruffly. "I've never said it to anyone, but I love you."

"I love you, too." She replied, eyes still sparkling with a mischievous glint. "All that for a little bit of teasing your cock with my tongue. I don't suppose you'll propose once we seal the deal."

Alistair gave a wheezy chuckle. He was even more tired than he realized, and doubted he'd be able to sit up, let alone right his clothing. He didn't care. "I'd do it now, if I thought you'd say yes."

"And I'd say yes, if I thought we could get married." Vaia sighed, shoulders slumping. "But let's not get into that. Instead," she placed a kiss on his lips and he could taste the briefest hint of his own skin, "why don't I let you sleep?"

"And then maybe show me how to please you?" He asked, eager again. Alistair was young enough that his body was beginning to reawaken, stimulated by the mere suggestion of sex.

She gave a soft, teasing laugh. "Oh yes, I think we can manage that. I look forward to it." Vaia said. She stood and fixed her dress as best she could, smoothing down the bodice and skirt, then after one last kiss, left the room.

His smallclothes still around his ankles, Alistair draped a forearm over his eyes to blot out the light he couldn't be bothered to get up and extinguish. A wide grin spread across his face. That had to be one of the greatest things that had ever happened to him.


	12. Chapter 12

It felt strange, almost backwards to anticipate day so much when he lived for the time at night he spent with Vaia. The feeling of her heart beating underneath his lips was more enticing than any paltry offering of the day. But Alistair had to admit, the Provings held his interest much more than most of the meetings and dinners he'd sat through as of late. A little sporting event was a blessed relief from all the endless chatter about the mire of family histories and politics. He wasn't sure how anyone kept it all straight, but then again, he understood Ferelden politics.

"Are you ready to see dwarven sporting at its finest?" Maric was smiling at his youngest son, who sat next to him at the morning meal. 

Alistair simply nodded, but he'd already expressed his enthusiasm before they'd made it into the breakfast room. He was busy spreading imported Orlesian compote over his lichen bread, it almost tasted like wheat toast. Cailan wasn't even bothering to eat very much, but had started an in-depth conversation with Prince Trian about the Provings the moment they walked into the room. There would be coin changed there, he could sense it in the offering. Once there were less eyes on Cailan, he'd slip into his purse and make wagers, probably with everyone from the princes to their guards. While his brother was lost in conversation, nearby Vaia was the picture of prim serenity. The Princess Aeducan sat next to her father, formal and proper in her long sapphire colored gown, but spoke to no one, except to answer the few questions posed by her father and the servants.

She looked beautiful, as radiant as a sky she'd never seen and better than any jewel that had ever been unearthed. He was biased, of course, because she was his, but it didn't make the statement untrue. There was something almost like pride in his chest whenever he caught a glance of her, but he didn't risk staring. Knowing that he would watch her slide out of that dress, that it would become a glimmering pool of silk on his floor was enough.

They were on their best behavior, Alistair and Vaia, pretending as if the other didn't matter. He could still taste her on his lips from mere hours before when he'd been face down between her legs, and his ears rang with breathy choruses of his name, but they were pretending so that no one would pay them any closer scrutiny. Pretending during the day was surprisingly easy, a bland smile here and there, the two of them formal and distant - especially after the dwarven court heard her announcement to start courting some dwarven noble. He didn't know the name of the man and didn't care to, Alistair already knew what mattered, that Vaia whispered his name night after night.

The intensity of their nights had been wrenched upwards with the introduction of intimacies more physical than the lighthearted kissing and companionship that it had started as. The previous night, she'd come to his room and slept in his arms after he'd thoroughly brought her to climax with just tongue and fingers. Was it right to be proud of such things? Alistair felt it was improper, but it made pride and desire and all the things the Chantry ever warned him about burn all the brighter within him memories when thought of it. 

"Do you like the jam, Prince Alistair?" A woman's voice asked, and he turned to his left to find a noblewoman speaking to him. He didn't know her name, but ever since Vaia had publicly began the traditional courtship, the ladies of Orzammar were less shy about talking to him. He guessed no one had wanted to step on her toes before, even if they weren't sure about it.

"Oh yes. It was lovely." He answered absently.

"Made with Orlesian champagne." She said, strangling the word with a terrible Orlesian accent. He gave her a wan smile and turned back to his meal.

"I guess on the surface you must have such delicacies all the time, but it's quite the treat down here."

"Not all the time, but champagne is often served at special events." Alistair wanted to quit talking, to recede back into memory the memory she'd interrupted, him slowly kissing a path down Vaia's body, starting at her neck and following her directions to 'lick all the interesting spots'.

"And what makes an event special on the surface?" She asked through lowered lashes, obvious in her flirtations.

"Usually for foreign nobility at receptions." Alistair said. "Probably for my brother's wedding soon. Could you pass me more of that if you're done with it?" He asked. He didn't really need more, but he wanted to stop her from talking. He took the jar she slid to him and took to applying it to more bread and fresh food with an intensity his stuffed stomach didn't feel, but it worked to end the conversation. Let them think him a buffoon, so long as it leaves him free.

The end of the meal was announced by a general rustling of the people assembled at the table, and the arrival of the honor guard that would take them to the Proving Grounds. Breakfast had been delicious by all standards, but Alistair couldn't recall how it tasted. His attention was focused on his thoughts, on playing their game of ignoring one another, and the heat that it would generate between them once the royal palace had quieted for slumber.

"This is what I've been waiting for!" Cailan announced on the way to the Proving. It was evident in his brother's buoyant manner that he was indeed looking forward to the matches, his merriment more than just lip service.

As for his brother, he was a little worried about him, but Alistair was self-centered in love, caught up in his own feelings and not able to see past them. Still, he didn't miss that Cailan grew more and more morose as time to leave for the surface drew closer, and had a pasted, hard smile on his face any time his impending wedding was mentioned. But there was nothing Alistair could really do or say for his brother, just as Cailan could do nothing to offset the inevitable heartbreak that would bombard Alistair once parted from Vaia. Both brothers felt for the other, but was at a loss as to how to do more than just commiserate.

Leaving was one thing Alistair tried to put out of his mind, and successfully hid from whenever he was awake. There were distractions aplenty, and when he was bored by the politicking of the dwarves, his mind was ready with thoughts of Vaia - replays of their times together. The scent of her lingered in his mind, and complimented by his newly acquired knowledge of how she tasted. There were obvious, unintended drawbacks to such lines of thinking, and he made sure to only let his memory take over when he was seated, not standing.

The Proving grounds were so loud and noisy, even his more visceral memories wouldn't have been able to block out all of the action. They were hustled into the royal seating section and made as comfortable as possible on the stone benches meant for much shorter people. 

The Proving Arena smelled like the mass of dwarves packed in there, excited and shouting. Dirt and lyrium coupled with the smell of flesh and blood, the undercurrent of expectant energy flowing through the crowd. It was beyond packed, people sitting crunched into one another, adding to his relief that they were separate in their little box. He had no desire to be pressed up against anyone but Vaia, and certainly not in the arena.

Alistair sat away from her, she sitting between King Maric and her brother Trian. But she could feel him near her, the bond that connected them. She'd assured Lord Dace that Alistair was just a visitor, perhaps a friend or more likely a useful contact on the surface, but they knew her words to be lies. They were one. She ached for him, this human that was as strange to her as the surface world he came from, and he could think of loving no one but her.

"Care to make a friendly wager, Prince Alistair?" A voice asked from behind him, and he saw Vaia make the slightest turn to see the conversation. Prince Bhelen was seated behind him, a lamentable place for the shorter man and was talking to Alistair.

They hadn't interacted much in his time in Orzammar, because Bhelen wasn't of age to be considered an adult. Aside from the odd sighting at meals, he hadn't really seen the youngest prince. He knew that Vaia regarded his was a strained kind of affection, as if she liked him, but didn't trust her younger brother. Considering the way Prince Trian treated her openly, Alistair wasn't surprised that she would be guarded.

"I'm not sure that would be fair, since I don't know a thing about any of the fighters. It's exciting to be able to view a Proving, since my brother Cailan has talked about them with such fervor. Are they regular occurrences?" Alistair asked, tactfully sidestepping the issue with the question. 

Bhelen indulged Alistair just enough, answering the question with a good natured gusto, but not engaging him in further conversation. By the time they were done talking, the matches were about to start, and Alistair turned his full attention to them, not wanting to be seen as rude.

He couldn't help it, but he sneaked a glance over at Vaia. Her hands were clasped in her lap, but she looked at ease as she spoke with King Maric. She was so at ease with her courtly manners, and had a grace that he'd never managed to attain. Alistair turned away quickly, attention back on the match - trying not to notice the pang in his chest the scene had caused. They didn't speak of parting, of leaving, but every time he saw her make Cailan laugh or explain something to Maric he couldn't help but think of how well she would fit into his family. 

The fighters, bless them, took his mind from such thoughts - at least until they stopped fighting. With every break, he thought of her, and wanted. Tonight, it would definitely be tonight. They were getting too close to the end to let it slip by. Anticipation throbbed hotly within Alistair as he reiterated the thought in his mind. He was going to make love with Vaia that night, because there was no longer any hesitation in him and sadly, no more time to wait.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? 
> 
> I am terribly sorry to the patient recipient of this story that I wasn't able to generate more of it sooner and left it hanging before Alistair and Vaia could spent their first night together. 2013 was a terrible year for me in terms of writing, I've already published more words this year than I did in all of last year. If not for challenges and big bangs, I'm not sure I would have produced much at all. But those bad old days are (hopefully) over, and I've resumed working on the story.
> 
> At any rate, let's get Alistair and Vaia laid, shall we?

When she went to him that night, hurrying past the well-paid guards that ignored the regularity and length of her visits, Cailan was already in the room. During their visit, Vaia had only seen them together outside of their meals a few times, but there was a deep, brotherly affection between the two of them. 

Alistair did not shine as truly with his family as he did with her, and that was an honest fact. He was overshadowed, by Maric the Great Liberator of Ferelden, but the dashing and roguish Prince Cailan. He didn't have their polish, but in its place held something less tangible but more steadfast. It didn't gleam as brightly when placed in the shade, but it still shone through.

Cailan didn't look surprised to see her, but she had a feeling they weren't hiding anything from him. Those laughing blue eyes were much sharper than they seemed, though perhaps not as shrewd as Gorim's, upon whom she relied more and more heavily these days since she was clouded selfish by love.

"I'm sorry, Prince Cailan, I didn't know you were visiting your brother tonight. I can see myself out." Vaia said, ready to escape before they were caught. Her face was already apologetic, but Cailan's glinting eye caught hers, the sight of her in his brother's room bringing back the twinkle to eyes dulled by strong dwarven mead and melancholy.

"There's no need Vaia." Alistair stood up to stop her, she hadn't taken steps to leave yet. "Cailan was just going."

"Yes, I should be elsewhere, I suppose." He said, grinning at the pair of them. His beautiful face turned a bit more somber as he spoke this brother. "Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate you letting me complain at you for a little." With a small bow towards Vaia he murmured, "my lady", his quick wink calling forth her smile with little effort.

Alistair nodded at his brother, who strode from the room, leaving the two of them alone. Once the heavy stone door closed behind him, Vaia sent Alistair a questioning look. 

"He's nervous about his wedding." Alistair explained. "More than nervous. Downright terrified in some ways, and dispirited in others. I had no idea what to say to him."

"It seems to daunt many people, but I think it's just the prospect of change that makes them nervous. He will find his way. All you can do is listen." Vaia said wisely. Though neither she nor Trian were wed, many Aeducan cousins and friends of hers had gone through a similar nervousness when they'd faced their own weddings. It usually the arranged ones that had the biggest fears, though a few of the love-matches had been spectacularly dramatic in their cold feet.

It made her wonder how her own wedding would go. An arrangement to be sure, but that had always been her future. The thought amused her for a moment, until the touch of Alistair's hand reminded her of the present. His face was calm, but the palm that covered hers was warm and damp. Vaia looked up at him and his nervousness finally betrayed itself in a twitch of his small smile, and she took to projecting enough confidence for the both of them.

"Would it be impertinent to invite you to your own bed?" Vaia asked sweetly, watching Alistair blush as he laughed at the question.

"It would be just right, I think."

"Then by all means, Prince Alistair, come with me." She said, already pulling him towards their destination. She wanted to be bold without scaring him, but her caution wasn't necessary. Alistair seized the chance and picked her up, carrying her to the bed.

Her limbs made a weak flail of protest at the unexpected movement, but Vaia was pleased. "Dragging me to your bed, are we?"

"Never. I was invited, remember?" He said as he carefully lowered her down. "Unless the lady issuing invitations wishes to rescind them?"

"Not at all. You are most welcome in bed with me." Vaia said, pulling Alistair down for a kiss, a hint of laughter still on her lips.

They lay together on the bed, kissing, staying mostly within familiar territory until Vaia decided if they were going to do anything, it was up to her to initiate it. She did it with actions rather than words, because she feared she might make thing awkward by pointing them out. Sliding out from Alistair's loose embrace, she got up to stand next to the bed again and in a gloriously swift movement that she may have practiced - she shed her dress. It fell to the ground with a swish, becoming a heap of silk at her feet.

Whether Alistair was duly impressed or not, she would never know. Earlier, she'd opted to forgo her corset, because she could see it only being a hindrance to this first time. Pretty as it was, she'd either wind up untying it herself or with it pulled down enough to expose her breasts and still cinching her waist. Neither was ideal for that night. She wanted him to see her, all of her. So there was nothing, not a single stitch of clothing under that dress. 

It was worth it, to see the look on his face as it morphed from surprise to incredulity and darkened over with want. He'd never seen her completely naked before. It was always in parts, pulling down her dress, lifting her skirt, that sort of thing between them.

"My, my - aren't you the minx?" He asked, pulling her back onto the bed. "Nothing underneath. Clever." 

"I just didn't want anything to get in the way."

Alistair brought her back to the bed with a kiss, which was equal parts fumbling and alluring. His skill hadn't had enough practice to be refined by their few encounters, but he was enthusiastic and good at following instructions. Vaia was absolutely sure that this was what love must feel like, because even as they slowly proceeded, she could feel the bond between them. 

Their shared excitement was tempered with a care that only happens with people in love, the meandering delight of being together. It was slow - a gentle hand running across her skin, a kiss to his collarbone. She could feel the hesitation in his touches at times, and the boldness behind his caresses when he stopped overthinking. They were both still thinking too much, but she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. Remembering everything was essential.

His clothes came off in inches, then all at once. He was human and big, almost vast compared to her, but he looked so elegant in his nudity and he was more comfortable without the confines of his clothes. It made her wonder if Prince Cailan would be the same, because they share the same figure and decisive grace of movement, but the thought vanished as lips brushed over the peak of her breast and her fingers thread though hair much shorter than Cailan's collar-length tresses. This was Alistair, and he was everything she'd ever wanted. There was no need to think of anyone else.

A kiss awkwardly landed on her nose, but she just tilted her face a little up until their mouths aligned. Alistair's enthusiasm was starting to outweigh his nervousness, but she could still feel it. She just kissed him, soft and slow, her hands leisurely exploring his silken skin. Vaia reveled in the feeling of their bare legs entwined, in the softness of previously unseen part making themselves known to her.

Alistair's hands tangled in Vaia's hair, as they kissed an endless kiss, broken only by the need for air, but with each breath increasing in intimacy. He felt like he was fumbling if they moved too much, he was far too graceless in his mind. Once they were both nude and in bed, he wasn't quite sure what to do next, so he put all of his effort into that kiss. It was a refuge of a kiss, at least for the moment until thought or instinct could kick him into further action.

She moved beneath him, sliding under his bulk without breaking their kiss. He could feel her heart beating against him, and the beat of her pulse sent fire through him. Alistair loved Vaia and words lost their impact in comparison to what he could show her. Making love. He'd never thought much of the phrase before, but that was what he intended to do tonight.

So he made himself think through his own desire, to figure out what she would like. There were kisses along the soft skin her neck that made her sigh and ones that trailed lower still. His lips were familiar with her collarbone, and he made a stop there before grazing over the swells of her breasts to her nipples. They were hard as he kissed them each in turn, making Vaia giggle softly.

"Remember when you said you wanted to know what pleased me?" She asked, but didn't wait for him to answer before she went on. "Cover my breasts with your kisses." She breathed. "Take them into your mouth and suck hard. Tease my nipples with your tongue, with wet fingers." She said, making him groan. He was growing inexplicably harder just hearing her say such things.

"You'd like that?" Alistair asked, his voice husky.

"Yes." She answered, but he was already started, teasing a dark peak under a the pad of his finger before hesitantly kissing it. Alistair kissed her other nipple in the same way, brushing it against his lips before opening his mouth around it. The exultant moan that came from Vaia once he did made him shiver down the length of his spine, one of the finest sounds he'd ever heard in his short life.

She arched into his mouth and he caressed her free breast with one hand, but concentrated on suckling her. He was making Vaia squirm underneath him, his tongue rolling over the nipple as he pulled away from it. It was even tighter than it had been before, and he ran a finger over it again, earning another drawn out moan as he did. He went to the other, moving to the opposite side to repeat the process, aroused by her response and his own fondness for her breasts. Before, he hadn't been sure people enjoyed this, but now he was sure that it was something both he and Vaia found erotic.

"Alistair." She said and he stopped what he was doing, hoping he wasn't hurting her. But Vaia looked far from upset when he looked up. Her hips rubbed against him with a slow, methodical movement and he felt himself answering in kind.

"Alistair." She said again. "Give me your finger so I can show you what to do with it."

He let her take his hand, which she slid down the soft curve of her belly between her legs. Whatever he was expecting, it hadn't been for her to lead him straight there, deep into the heat and wetness inside of her. He could feel her clenching around his finger, and moved it in and out slowly as she did. This was possibly the best thing ever, he was sure of it. He moved his finger more quickly once he got the rhythm of it, listening to how Vaia's breath caught when he sped up and how she ground against his hand when he slowed down.

"Now I'm going to show you what you can do with that pretty tongue of yours." Vaia informed him. "Watch my hand Alistair."

And he did watch, he watched as she touched herself with her legs spread open wide, his finger still pumping slowly in and out of her. "Your tongue can follow the same path, and believe me, it will feel much better than my fingers." 

He was eager to try, and the hand inside of her faltered slightly as he repositioned himself so he was face down below her waist. The view was incredible, her breasts like mountains and every part of her exposed. The air hung heavy with the scent of her arousal, and he pressed his tongue to the places her fingers had so recently shown him. She tasted like her kisses, but with a deeper more pungent flavor. Alistair tried to remember what he'd watched her fingers do, moving in tight circles around her bead, and mimicked it with his tongue. 

"Move your other hand." She whispered, and he remembered that his finger was still inside of her. He circled his tongue, slowly, carefully and moved his hand at the same time, feeling Vaia buck beneath him. Oh, she clearly liked that.

Though he had little clue as to what he was doing, he kept going, touching her in different ways, suckling her bead instead of just lapping at it, trying to gauge her reaction. Soon her moans all started to sound the same, lower and more intense, and when she whispered commands at him: don't stop, speed up, right there - he obeyed them all.

He felt her climax as it built, the stiffening her curled toes, the tautness in her belly and her shortness of breath. Alistair wasn't sure how long it would take, but when she was without words, he knew it wouldn't be much longer. He felt her crumble, the sensation finally overtaking her and covering his lips with a new wash of her wetness. When backed away, he felt a strange pride in seeing her there, panting and flushed by his attentions. She was beautiful and in a haze of joy because of him.

Vaia eagerly sought out his mouth for a kiss. His mouth was still wet with her, but he obliged, her hands seeking out his cock as they kissed. She stroked him, feeling his hard readiness as she did. "I want you." She said against his lips.

This was it. He moved atop her again and felt a little trepidation as she spread her legs for him. Whether or not it showed he wasn't sure, but Vaia took control again. She gently guided his cock to her entrance, teasing the wet head between her folds. Alistair nearly spilled right then, but refused to give up before the main show. Cailan had warned him against being unmanned in such a manner, and he now understood the strange urgency that had accompanied the warning.

Before he had time to think himself out of it, he pushed in and both he and Vaia groaned. The feeling of her - he wasn't prepared for it. A finger had no sensation in comparison to his manhood and every inch of it was buried deep within her warmth, giving him the most exquisite feeling he'd ever encountered. It was almost too much, like the flash of light a clap of lightning makes on an otherwise pitch black night.

Alistair couldn't stay still within her. He moved and she with him, pushing back to his every thrust. Oh, Maker. This wasn't how he'd thought it would be. There was nothing to do but keep going, to feel it all for as long as he could until he inevitably burst like a raincloud. Alistair sped up, running his hands along her body as he did, vaguely aware that with each thrust of his hips her tits bounced enticingly and she clenched around him.

And then he can feel it as it starts in the small of his back. The curling beginning of the sensation that would soon overtake him as he spilled his seed. Part of him didn't want this astoundingly wonderful congress to end, but he knew he couldn't hold this back. In an embarrassingly quick amount of time from the first stirrings, he sped up again, his breath stuttering as he reached his end. 

When he'd worked through his climax and the easy, soft haze that came after was settling over him, Alistair made sure not to collapse onto Vaia. Cailan had also been adamant about this, it was apparently very bad form to simply fall on top of your woman. He carefully rolled away from her and found himself next to her smiling face.

"Was that alright?" He asked.

Vaia laughed softly, cupping his face in her hands. "Oh yes, my love. It was wonderful."

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and those words in his ears.

Sleeping in his arms was such bliss that when Vaia does wake herself up, she doesn't actually want to move. Alistair's bare chest is up against her, warm as a hearth as it rises and falls with each breath. There is nothing that she wants more than to stay, but she can't. Reluctant though she is to move, she does and deliberately wakes Alistair. The thought of him waking up to a cold, empty bed made her too sad to even consider sneaking away and letting him sleep.

His kisses are sleepy but urgent, and she returns them even as she extracts herself from his bed.

"Stay." He'd murmured in her ear, and she nearly did, damn the consequences.

"Tomorrow night, I promise." Vaia said. "I have to make arrangements, but I promise I will."

He didn't say anything else, but before she left he hugged her to him, and sat up in bed, watching her leave. The walk to the door felt like it took an eternity. Once outside, Vaia heard the very early sounds of the palace waking. This was the last full day of their visit, and people were already scurrying about, readying for the departure party that would serve to celebrate Prince Cailan's engagement and cap off their visit. It was only in the privacy of her room did she allow the realization to overwhelm her. Her tears were short lived but all the more potent for it.


	14. Chapter 14

Alistair woke up with a jaunty tiredness filling him. He couldn't stop smiling, and though his mind knew that he was leaving soon, going back to Denerim and the tedium of his normal life, he couldn't focus on it. It was like something so far off in the distance that it remained fuzzy, and it was easier to let it be out of reach than to zero in on it. He chose the happiness, the incredible wonderful joy that spread through him.

It was all because of Vaia. Not just because of what they'd finally done last night, though that was a large part of his lazy, tired happiness - but because she loved him. He could feel her kisses against his skin whenever he closed his eyes, could see her face as she whispered to him words he never thought he'd hear with such burning honesty.

There would always be people to bed him, he knew that. Princes never had a shortage of admirers in that way. His brother made sure that he knew that fact in disgusting detail. But love, he'd never dared to hope for, and he'd found it with the a woman so beautiful, more alluring and intelligent than he'd ever dreamed he'd meet.

"Ah, little brother, look at you." Cailan said as Alistair finally exited his room and went out into the hallway. "You look like a newly minted coin." Cailan laughed at the image, and though Alistair had no idea what his brother meant, he laughed too, because it felt good to laugh and the sound sprung so easily to his lips.

Maric exited his suite at that moment, his guards clanging in time to their steps as they drew closer. "Sons, I heard you laughing. I see that the prospect of going home has put us all in a good humor."

Alistair started to stammer out a response, because that certainly wasn't the case fo him, but Cailan cut him off. "As charming as Orzammar is, Father, I do miss the sunlight." Cailan answered, giving Alistair a look of warning. He understood. He wasn't to say anything contradictory, lest he give away his secret. 

Normally little things like that would dull his enjoyment of the day, but Alistair felt impervious that morning. Instead of giving a real answer, he just nodded at his father and let him draw his own conclusions.

The festivities would formally commence later on, but in truth they started out right at the beginning of the day, breakfast turning into an event instead of the somewhat casual repast it had been. Voices from the room filtered through the stone walls and greeted them in the hall. There were far more people in there than there had been for previous mornings, and he wondered what would be served on this eve of their leaving. When they walked into the room, trumpets sounded out and they were announced in formal order, with his father going first. 

Through all the people, his eyes found Vaia immediately. He was still standing in the door, hearing them call out Cailan's name and full title when he saw her. Vaia was standing next to her father on one side, Prince Trian on the other. Endrin was on his feet - he'd bowed to Maric as a sovereign - and was applauding Cailan politely. 

String musicians warmed up with snatches of songs that filled the whole chamber. The celebrations were sure to be extraordinary.

There was little more than a couple hours between the end of their ceremonial breakfast, the meeting of the deshyrs giving them a formal goodbye and the evening party. He had no free time to see Vaia, though he knew she would be busy. This party was of her creation, as had been most of the household arrangements for their stay. He couldn't fathom how she pulled it all together. The time passed in a rush for him, it was all well-wishes from people, mostly for their trip back and for Cailan's impending marriage, handshakes and informal goodbyes. He wished there was more time, even if it was just a few more moments here in Orzammar. There was nothing awaiting him back on the surface.

Alistair hated the party, despite it being wonderful. It constrained him, held him captive beneath too many appraising gazes. He couldn't look at her half as much as he wanted, and he wanted to spend the whole thing drinking in the sight of Vaia. His Lady Aeducan, even if it was a secret affair. He wasn't quite sure how people managed to survive these things, truth be told. There was nothing he wanted to do more than shout about how he felt, to kiss Vaia openly and hold her in his arms, and those were the things he absolutely couldn't do. He couldn't see how people could stand the sneaking, the secrecy, because it would never cross his mind to revel in such things. 

She stood off to the side of the room, watching the ceremony of it all with little interest. Vaia, like her love, wanted all of this paegentry to be over and done, so she could spend whatever time they had left together.

"We have gifts to bestow upon on our Fereldan guests, before they leave for their home once again." King Endrin announced, and motioned forward the smiths. These dwarves had been laboring day in and out to make Cailan's ceremonial armor, but the gifts for Alistair and King Maric had been prepared in advance.

The armor commissioned for Prince Cailan had been presented as a wedding present with much fanfare. The craftsmanship was truly outstanding in the heavy armor, but it no less beautiful for all of its practicality. Alistair and his father weren't left out of the gifting - to do so would have been unspeakably rude - but they were given a shield and sword respectively, with King Maric making a great fuss over the sword that had been fashioned to replicate an Ortan sword he found during a youthful journey into the Deep Roads. Alistair's shield had a modified Aeducan device with a mabari of Ferelden. She hoped it would help him to remember her, to remember Orzammar fondly.

Later, Vaia found she couldn't recall most of the details of the party, even after planning it for so long. What she could remember was the crush of people, the loudness and always being able to spot the humans wherever they were in the crowd, even if they were sitting. Every noble in Orzammar was there, not just for the chance to meet King Maric and his sons before they departed, but because a party this size was always a chance to get ahead, scheming and sounding out others under the cover of noise and festivity.

For all that she couldn't discern the details, she knew it was a beautiful party. For weeks, it had been the focus of her work when she wasn't escorting their guests around and foolishly falling in love with Alistair. But for her, the real celebration had been the night before. The night of the party was a goodbye kiss, just like the party itself.

When she slipped into his room late that night, Vaia went straight to Alistair and embraced him. Her silly human, too tall and awkward, but so sweet and kind and genuine that it broke her heart to think about a day where he wouldn't live in her guest quarters any longer. Her hug was returned with great ferocity, and she had to assume that he was thinking along the same lines.

"Do you remember before, when I first got here and we talked about dreaming?" Alistair asked.

"Yes." Vaia replied. It still fascinated her, that his spirit went someplace else and his body rested. She'd slept next to him last night, and though he mumbled a bit and snored, it didn't seem much different than anything she did.

"I told you that my dreams since coming to Orzammar were too personal, and they were, but not in the way you think." He gave her a small smile before going on. "I dreamed about what my life would be like here, if I had been born into a dwarven noble family. It seemed such a silly thing at the time I didn't want to share, but now I find myself wishing for just that very thing so I could stay here with you."

Vaia returned his smile, understanding the sadness that made it smaller and dimmer than his usual grins. "I doubt very much that we would even like each other if you grew up here. It would be just another match, with none of the things that make us, well, us. You and I, just the way we are - that's the wonderful part of all this. We don't have to be anyone else."

Alistair came closer and cupped her face in his hands. "You always know what to say." He murmured. "And you're right. I'm the bastard younger prince of Ferelden, and you never once treated me like it."

"Stop talking." Vaia instructed, pulling him close to her, back into the hug they'd never fully extricated themselves from. "Or I'm going to cry, and it really isn't time for that yet. I don't want to start our night out in such a fashion."

"Then how about a kiss? That's an excellent start to a night." Alistair suggested, and Vaia eagerly took him up in it. It wasn't just one, but it was, an endless flow of kisses that melded into one long kiss until he had her on his bed. She was tempted to move fast, to strip and be bare as soon as possible, skipping any anticipation in favor of the bliss of his skin up against hers. 

But If there was only this one night left, she wasn't about to let it end early. She wanted these memories, all of them. Even if it was Alistair's fingers fumbling against her clothes as she breathed a laugh onto his neck, even if it was the dim light casting shadows over his chest as she pushed her hands under his tunic so she could push it up and off. She wanted to remember him and they way they felt, wanted each moment so she could know the feeling of real love once it was out of reach.

Their clothes came off quickly after the first kiss, and soon she was back in his arms, in his bed. Her toes curled at his touch, and their fingers search for each other, to grip and hold on. Alistair tasted her as if he'd been waiting all night to be between her legs, no ambling descent down her body as a warm up, just dropping his head to plant kisses on her inner thighs before diving in. It was clear he's trying because there was more finesse than before. She arches into it, into his eager mouth, moaning a soft approval. Like the party, everything blurred for her. It was all sweetness and love and pleasure in her mind and Vaia was content to let it be hazy, to let it be what it was going to be for once.

He backed up before he presses into her, and their eyes met. There was no reason to look away, and she didn't, but it made her feel vulnerable. But this is Alistair, and he smiles at her, that charming little grin that makes him look both sweet and wicked, and it dispels her shadows. She's sure that they shared the same jumbled, incoherent thoughts that clear as he pushes into her. When he filled her with him, it was right and so good that she had to bite her fist to keep from screaming, even though he hadn't moved since the first thrust. It felt like perfection, and he agreed in a growling sigh that turns into a groan as he began a slow pace.

It was a fever pitch, a crescendo that took no time at all and repeats itself all over again. She and Alistair gorged on one another until there was no more energy between the two of them, and all they could do was acquiesce to the call of slumber.

She woke up entangled in Alistair's sheets and limbs, not long after she'd fallen asleep. He looked so happy, peaceful even as he snored away next to her. They hadn't meant for her to stay, but now that she was awake, Vaia didn't have it in her heart to wake him up and leave. Instead, knowing it was foolhardy, she settled back against the bed. His warm body readily accepted her and she curled into him, closing her eyes.

#####

Alistair spent a good portion of the night awake. Not just with Vaia, though that part had been delightful, if a trifle bittersweet. It was the last time, at least for this visit. That's what he kept telling himself, that he could visit again soon, possibly in another year or so and see her, but the lie had yet to comfort him. Instead, he stayed awake for as long as he could, fighting fatigue, not wanting to lose any moment to something so trivial as sleep. He was laying there, watching her sleep, feeling her in his arms. It felt like when the morning light broke across the horizon and painted the sky with color, a sight that Vaia had never known.

This time things had been a little smoother than the night before. He'd been just as nervous, Maker, he was still nervous even thinking about it. But he knew there was little enough time for them without all of his silly hang ups and wondering if he was doing it right. If it had been wrong, he trusted that she would have guided him gently towards the right way to do something, as she had ever since they'd breached decorum with their first kiss.

So that night they made love again, desperate and needy, the end they'd so long tried to deny hanging over the both of them. He tasted her and wished that he could hold the memory of it, the salty, milky musk of her, within his mind forever. Alistair was so far past head over heels, it would have been embarrassing had she not been exactly the same way.

Eventually he did succumb to sleep, only to wake not long later, her mouth covering his skin in kisses, a thigh rubbing against the hardness of his cock. She licked the head of it with a flick of her tongue and Alistair could do nothing but moan a response. Soft lips brushed against the full length of him before her mouth accepted him in, her hands around the base of him, stroking in time to the sucking. It was absolute bliss and later, when he could think straight, Alistair resented the life denied him. Orzammar could be the last thing he ever saw so long as he got to sleep in Vaia's bed, to have everyone know about and acknowledge their relationship. He had nothing but bitterness for the petty excuses that separated them. 

Vaia should be his to marry - she was a princess and he a prince, but irony was cruel to them, their races standing between them. But there was no point in arguing with the fates, because he'd always known it was doomed, that he would have to leave, that she would be with someone else eventually. He hadn't realized how it would feel - how delightful her kisses would be, the truth in the words of love she muttered, how comforting the weight of her head on his chest. Fate was a bitter, hard pill to swallow that morning, and worse still when their honor guard led them from the Royal Palace of Orzammar and he couldn't even turn to give her another nod as he left her city for good. Cailan cheered when they surfaced, glad to see sunlight again, but it didn't matter to Alistair. The winds of Ferelden that night were a far cry from the warmth of her arms where he'd started his day.

It was morning when she left this time, after sleeping in his arms. He was too greedy by half. He didn't want her to go anywhere but back to Denerim with him. He didn't want to leave this bed if he could help it. The only thing he didn't want was whatever was coming next, whatever reality would intrude and take his heart from his chest and smash it like glass against the stone walls. Alistair met her dark eyes, knowing that this would be the last time he saw them up close. It was hard to meet them this last time.

"I cannot cry when you leave, but know that I will ache with each step that separates us." Vaia said to him. She kissed the palm of his hand and held it fast to her lips. When she finally let it go, she said all that was left to say between them. "I love you, Alistair Theirin, human prince and noble of Ferelden."

"I love you, Vaia Aeducan, princess of House Aeducan of the sovereign dwarven city of Orzammar." He answered, reciting back as much of her title as he could remember.

He kissed her then, hard and unyielding. Alistair felt her hands crushed against his chest, in stubborn fists that opened to caress his chest. One last time, he thought, and he kissed her harder at the realization. Her mouth pressed back just as hard against his, her lips claiming him, so hot they felt like they were branding her mark over his face. When their tongues met, he tried to savor the feeling of it, the taste of her, everything that he would never get enough of and wouldn't have again. When they broke apart, they both took a moment to catch their breath.

"Prince Alistair." 

"Lady Aeducan."

Then she left the room.


	15. Chapter 15

Alistair was the perfect prince once he returned home, celebrating Cailan's the run up to wedding and burying himself in his duties and martial training. If there was a task that needed doing, he was the volunteer that would do it - anything he could do to forget his heartache. The pain that had settled within him after leaving Orzammar, leaving Vaia had become a dull ache that he tried to ignore. He didn't even let himself think about her, if he could help it, though he was wretchedly unsuccessful in the endeavor. He thought of her all the time. In crowds, he would hear a voice that sounded so close to hers that he would convince himself she was there and he'd go looking. With the darkness of night, other memories rushed to the forefront and his body ached for her warmth and softness. He tried so hard not to think of that last day, or the night before. When his sheets brushed up against his skin at night, he couldn't help but remember Vaia and feel a loss so keen it pierced him to the core.

When they'd departed Orzammar, they'd been obliged to act indifferent, as though both of their lives hadn't been changed utterly by his visit. He'd worn the shield that her family had gifted to him with his armor. Cailan warned him against wearing it, fearing that their father might be angry about his wearing the sigil of a foreign family as if he were their Champion, but Maric said nothing to him about it. The dwarves, however, had made much of his willingness to carry their craftsmanship, soothing any rebuke his father might voice.

Leaving had been horrible. Vaia had been part of the delegation seeing them off, of course, and she stood at the edge of the Diamond Quarter wearing a black dress and her long beautiful hair caught in a mesh caul that was dotted with diamonds. Both of her brothers and her father were also there, her brothers in armor, King Endrin in robes with a mabari on the back, a gift from Maric.

They'd made formal, dispassionate goodbyes then, but with every footstep away from the Diamond Quarter he had to fight not to look back. He lost that battle of resolve and turned only once and saw her staring at him. Their eyes met for a brief second before he had to turn back, but he saw she wasn't crying. No tears, she'd told him.

She was right. It hurt too much for tears. It still did even once their caravan pulled into the capital and he was lost in the shuffle of Cailan's wedding once again. It was almost a blessing to be the forgotten son in this, Alistair wasn't sure if he could face too much responsibility with the festivities. His part was limited to standing with his brother and making a welcoming speech once they'd made their Chantry vows. Maric was the one front and center, and didn't mind the center stage as much as his youngest son did.

The noise of Denerim brought him back to the present, as it always did, for good or ill. He was out in the palace grounds, and it seemed that every courtier in the land and some from abroad had come. All around him, people were united in bestowing well-wishes upon Cailan and Anora. He stood behind them on a small platform in the courtyard, struggling to maintain a smile as he watched. Though they weren't a love match, Cailan and Anora were happy enough to induce envy in him. Why couldn't he have this with Vaia? She was a princess as well, but yet, almost inexplicably to him, they were destined to be apart.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" A voice shook him from his reverie, and he turned to see Bann Teagan standing next to him. Teagan wasn't related to him by blood but he treated both Alistair and Cailan as family. There were others who weren't so kind to Alistair, and merely tolerated his presence. He liked Teagan and found him easier than most nobles, and not just because he was kind enough to accept Alistair as he was. Teagan peered at him now with concern and a small frown on his face.

"I was just thinking." Alistair mumbled, suddenly needing to be away from the crowds.

Teagan gave him a kind smile. "Perhaps someday soon, you'll take a bride."

Alistair grimaced. "Not likely, unless they..." He trailed off, horrified. He'd almost said, 'unless they let me marry a dwarven princess.'

When he'd asked King Maric about maybe making an alliance with Orzammar and sending him as a delegate, his father had laughed. "Son, the Chantry's got all we need from them as far as lyrium goes. Without that, they have next to nothing we need. Surfacers can mine metal ore just as well as the dwarves of Orzammar can, and when we mine it we don't have to pay their tariffs. No son, a royal ambassador is unnecessary just to export our goods there and keep relations friendly. They need us more than we need them."

On his own he'd read that dwarves had been declining in population because of their low fertility rates and constant skirmishes with the darkspawn. When he mentioned that disturbing fact to his father, the other man just shrugged. "It seems a shame that such a civilization might die out, but for all we know that's how it's meant to be. Other cultures have come and gone son. It's not for me to say whether or not the dwarves will be overrun."

Alistair had found no recourse in his father's hard eyes, and had simply retreated to his own thoughts. Cailan had offered comfort, but Alistair got the feeling that his brother had never fallen in love before - if he had, perhaps he wouldn't be so amenable to the production he was now part of with Anora.

"She was quite a woman, I take it." Teagan said quietly.

"You, you know?"

"Your father might have mentioned something about an inappropriate crush, but you have the beaten down look only a man in love could ever achieve." Teagan gave him a small smile of commiseration. Patting him on the shoulder, he offered the only consolation he could. "It takes bravery to believe in love, Alistair. Don't lose that. The future could hold anything."

Short of running away to become the tallest dwarf, Alistair didn't know how the future might favor him. Instead he just sighed, mustering up his happiest look as a few nobles passed, offering up their congratulations for his brother. "I hope you're right, Teagan."

"So do I." Teagan chuckled.

When he returned to his chambers a few evenings after his talk with Teagan, a letter was waiting for him. Out of place and separated from the usual correspondence he got, it sat on his desk in a place of prominence. When he picked it up, the parchment felt heavy and strange in his hands, made from a source he couldn't identify by sight or touch.

It wasn't one letter but a few, tied together with a dark velvet ribbon. They carried the faint scent of lyrium and earth, and he held himself together long enough to open one and have the smell hit him in the face. It was Vaia, he knew it was as soon as he saw the ribbon.

The idea had been one of their mad whispers on that last night. In between kisses, he'd proposed the idea of writing to her - but he wasn't sure how to get his letters to Orzammar. She'd said she would try to find a way to get letters to him on a surface trade caravan, but that it would be a longshot at best. Orzammar grew more and more closed off under her father's rule and there was little to be done about it. It had seemed a hopeless path at the time, and they'd set it aside and kept their focus determinedly on pleasure that night.

But here she was, her words in his hands, touching the same paper her warm skin had once brushed. Overwhelmed by everything - the fact that he was desperately, achingly in love with Vaia, that she tried and got through, that he wasn't there with her - Alistair sat down with the first letter, intending to read it after he was finished holding the bundle of papers to his heart.

#

Dearest Heart,  
I cannot know when this will reach you, but I regret not putting pen to paper sooner and giving it to one of your men so that they could deliver it to you as soon as you left my sight. I've thought of nothing but you since we parted, and it goes without saying that it's much emptier here without you.

You departed only yesterday, and I had to watch you leave, your back to me as you forced yourself to walk away. I could see that it was as hard for you as it was for me, just by the set of your back and the reluctance of your feet. I know it's useless to dwell on it, but it is the last time I saw you, no matter how many happy memories I have from before that.

Please write to me. Tell me that you are well and missing me. My city has not changed since you've left, but I feel out of place in it. I find myself longing to see the sunset with you, as you described.

Forever with love,  
V

 

She was intentionally vague, he knew, so that it could read as if it were from any woman. He didn't care if anyone knew how he felt, but it would be disastrous for her. Just thinking on it and the dangerous, circuitous politics of the dwarves made him want to go back and bring her to the surface with him. He knew that would likely create more problems than it solved, but in his mind he got to be the hero and get the girl, so the problems were for others to deal with. Instead of indulging in fantasy, he opened another letter.

 

Dearest,  
My first letter to you is still in my possession, yet I am writing to you again. Even the thought of you is more comfort than I find around me. I cannot know who to trust besides my second. There are so many things happening here, I could fill several pages just explaining them all and how they came about. Instead let me say that I am fearful for the first time in a while. My position is hereditary but not guaranteed, which must be hard to understand for you, but I will try.

Titles aren't necessarily carried in the blood here, there is still debate and confirmation. My family has more to lose than most others, since we sit up so high. I hear my father and elder brother arguing about it constantly, and they have brought me into it. It seems that I am popular and well-liked, although I am not sure how it came about.

I try to be fair and polite to my people, influenced by memories of my mother. But there is more to it than simple popularity, since the general populace does not need to like someone for them to be important. I wish I knew more about what is spurring this on, but our separation has made me short-sighted and prone to seek solitude more than the comfort of a crowd. I prefer private memories to public amusements.

Dear, I miss you greatly. I wish I could hear your insights about this situation. All of it makes me think of you and your brother, both so different but loyal. Loyalty is not fostered in my family, except to be loyal to the our name. We look united to outsiders, but it hides the infighting. The deception is hard to keep up, now more than ever when I am feeling bare after a week bereft of your presence.

Now I am maudlin and I will end this. I miss you.

Forever with love,  
V

Dearest,  
I should be asleep, but I cannot face the bed without you. I have no wish to embarrass myself on parchment, so I won't write out all of my thoughts. They are memories of you and I together, mixed with fantasies of what we might enjoy in the future.

There is no real point in this except to vent my frustration. My skin still bears the imprints of your hands, though invisible and faded, I will always feel your touch upon me.

I am thinking of you and nothing else.

Forever,  
V

Alistair knew he had to hide or burn them, but could bring himself to do neither that first night. He slept with them under his pillow with the hopes of bringing a bit more of Vaia to his dreams that night. In the morning, he moved them to a more secure place and began planning out his response, though it would be a few days before he could find a moment to sit down and try to write it out. Her words however, they filled him with joy and grounded him when he felt hopeless. It was like a shield, the renewed contact taking him out of himself just enough so he could enjoy his brother's long awaited wedding.


	16. Chapter 16

"My lady, your brother Trian has sent you another 'reminder' that your father requires you do some active service for Orzammar again soon, to uphold the honor of House Aeducan," Gorim said, delivering the annoying message without inflection.

"Lord Trian says these things as if you do nothing all day," Gorim continued. "It's not as if you don't have your own duties."

"I know, Gorim, but Trian was always a worrywort. Thank him for the reminder, and then let us find something for me to do that suitably visible and not very taxing," Vaia said. She was calm, at least outwardly.

She had no desire to make waves, at least not at the moment. Trian could complain all he wanted, but their father still held the power. As long as she never responded in kind to Trian's sour little jibes or got in the way of Bhelen's childish whims, Vaia wasn't very notable. Endrin gave her periodic vague praise and recognition, but no real attention. That was the way she wanted it. Too many eyes on her might see all of the things she worked so hard to conceal.

Months had passed since Alistair had left, but Vaia thought in days, not months nor years. It would be foolish to live her whole life mourning a lost love, as if she were the only one ever to go through heartbreak. She didn't want to be that way, but it did still hurt. She missed Alistair, and all that he'd become to her in a such a short time. They'd shared something she never thought she would experience as the daughter of a king. It was wonderful and overwhelming and she was more for having known it, but less for its loss.

She didn't know why she continued to write him, because she only ever got three letters in return. Vaia didn't blame Alistair for it, and they were quite long letters, but it was disheartening all the same. Perhaps he'd forgotten her, though his letters insisted that he hadn't. Maybe he was trying to forget her. Duty weighed heavily on both of them, and she didn't need to imagine the constant pressure to put happiness on the list of things that don't mix with responsibility. Vaia tried to be reasonable with herself, though her rationality was frayed whenever it came to Alistair. She missed him too much to let his memory fade. If there was a way to see him again, she would, even if it took years.

Still, she wrote and paid good money to have them brought to the surface when the caravans came. They were infrequent and not all from Ferelden, so she understood why each of the didn't come with a new sheaf of letters addressed to her.

In their time apart, Orzammar had begun to chafe at her. Perhaps it wasn't solely the influence of a surfacer that made her ache for relief from her life, but their affair certainly hadn’t made it any better. Some days she sat in the Assembly, quiet, ostensibly watching the debates, her mind trying to picture life on the surface. How did life go under that endless sky? It made her shiver to think on it overlong, though her thoughts often returned to that curiosity.

Vaia pushed herself away from the desk where she’d sat opening her correspondence, sadly devoid of letters from the surface. Before bed, she would try to write Alistair again, to see if she could coax more words out than, “I miss you, I wish my life was different,”. Try as she might, it was all she could think of this morning, even before Trian sent his reminder to her.

“Let’s go, Gorim. The troops aren’t going to oversee their own practice. I should armor up and put in an appearance.”

Gorim grinned at her. He was warrior caste through and through. Fighting was the only time he really let loose, and he relished every opportunity. They’d soon have another expedition into the Deep Roads to lead, if the Stone favored her.

“As you say, my lady,” he answered, anticipation making his eyes gleam.

It almost made her smile to see his enthusiasm. It was more than she could muster most days. She let it infect her, fuse with her own love of hitting things. Today just might be alright if she got to get in any target practice of her own.

###

Bhelen may have technically still been a child by the laws of Orzammar, but he saw and understood far more than most people. He’d watched his sister fall in love with a man she could never have, and now Vaia was heartsick. She still attended to her duties and smiled and danced with all the right people, but there was little enthusiasm behind it. The only time she ever seemed to shake off her malaise was when she led her troops on her few excursions into the Deep Roads. 

He wished there was more of that Vaia. She was lively and purposeful, the way he knew his sister should be, but instead she hid her growing boredom and distance behind carefully constructed smiles and poise. This life wasn’t for her, and he watched her retreat from it more and more, even as she fulfilled all of her tasks. Endrin didn’t see it, or didn’t want to, but Bhelen could.

She could never rule Orzammar, no more than he could allow Trian the tyrant to regress their people back into the Ancient Age. No heir could be placed on the throne without being confirmed by the Assembly, and Vaia was the one who could do it, not Trian. If somehow his elder brother did manage it, Bhelen would ride a bronto to Bownammar and let Orzammar have their misery. Trian would rule with an iron fist and declare himself a champion while people suffered and their numbers dwindled into nothingness. Vaia would never be so cruel to anyone but herself. His sister would be better, if only for a moment. All of Orzammar would flourish under her for a short while, before she found a cause to martyr herself on. It would be tragic, beautiful and far too short.

Politics was all that Bhelen knew or loved. He’d sat in the Assembly since he was a babe, soaking it up, learning and listening and watching. It was part of him. He knew the lords and deshyrs, knew their secrets, debts and wants. Alliances were already being set up, deals made and broken. Orzammar would change, and he wasn’t about to wait for Endrin to die so it could happen.

“My lord, I regret to inform you that Lord Trian has cancelled your meeting,” said a servant, slipping into his room like a shadow. Bhelen gave her an affable smile. 

“That’s all right. What about my sister? Has she given a response?” he asked. He’d been trying to talk to both Trian and Vaia for some time, with varying degrees of success. 

Technically, they had to put their other duties before spending time with their underage brother. Vaia was more likely to make time, whereas Trian would invite him along to be part of whatever he had to do. He liked to impart lessons upon Bhelen, as if Trian were the father of a wayward boy. Bhelen was certain he spoke to both of them more often than Trian and Vaia conversed directly.

“Yes, my lord. She can see you after dinner.”

Bhelen dismissed the servant and frowned. He’d been at this for over a year, and still nothing from either one of his siblings. He stole a glance at the locked drawer in his chest, where a bundle of letters from the surface sat tied in their black ribbon. The seals were unopened, so far, because he’d seen no need. Just having them might be enough. He could push without prying, and was good at it. But then again, it was foolish to turn down an advantage, especially one he already had in his hands. Indecision plagued him, as it had the first time he’d intercepted the missives.

How could he bend both Vaia and Trian to his plan without showing his hand? Bhelen had tried honor and subtlety. It was time for a different approach, for Orzammar’s sake as well as his own.


	17. Chapter 17

He wasn’t sure that Vaia is getting his letters anymore. The last few he got from her complained about his lack of communication, and then described, in depth what she would do to punish him where he there. Alistair rather liked her version of punishment, even if he wasn’t deserving of it. There was little he could do if his letters weren’t making it to Orzammar — it wasn’t like he could go there and bring them himself. In fact, there was little chance of him making it to Orzammar ever again.

Maric put him in charge of the royal forces now that Cailan’s wedding business was done. He seemed to have turned his attention to Alistair and wanted to find a place for him. In truth, Alistair wanted that as well. The King’s Guard answered to his command, as would any force mustered under wartime proclamations. That was more responsibility than he’d ever had before, and it made him nervous.

Loghain was still the general of all the armed forces of Ferelden, but Alistair oversaw his small contingent. In the future, they’d probably work together, if there was need. Maric spoke about it a few times, telling Alistair that he would have to train under Loghain for a while. Alistair didn’t mind it, but Loghain didn’t seem excited by the prospect.

The day was a grey one, heavy rain clouds looming in the dark sky as the sounds of swords clashing filled the air. Alistair’s guards were training hard, and he along with them. He didn’t believe in training from the sidelines, and that was an early lesson he’d learned from both his father and Loghain. How could he ever forget it, with Loghain always clad in his River Dane armor, reminding them all of the battles of the past? He wouldn’t be able to fit in it if he didn’t still train with his troops.   
“You’ve got the Royal Guard shaping up well, little brother.” 

Cailan strode toward him as he lowered his sword, defeated in this sparring match by one of the older knights. The man saluted to both Alistair and Cailan before walking off. Alistair put down his practice sword and shield before turning to speak to his brother.

“I didn’t do anything. They already knew what they were about before I got here,” Alistair said. It was the truth, but it didn’t lower him to admit it. They were good, with or without him.

“Don’t be modest. They like you, and that’s not a group that’s easy to win over. In time, they will take your orders,” Cailan said, his voice brimming with confidence.

“How do you do that?” Alistair asked, even as he tried to stop himself. 

His brother had a way of filling him with confidence, even when he felt just the opposite. Cailan laughed his loud, boisterous laugh. Several faces around them turned, and when they saw their Crown Prince laughing, indulged him with a smile. 

“Alistair, don't sell yourself so short. You’re doing fine work, anyone can see that. Father was right to place you in charge of the guard. Come now, we have more important things to speak of besides your newest assignment.” Cailan motioned for Alistair to join him and his brother fell into step beside him.

“Father is going on a sea voyage. He means for it to be a test of my readiness to lead. I will hold court in Denerim whilst he is away,” he said.

“I am here to support you, as always,” Alistair said. He knew his duty.

“I know, I know, and I thank you for that,” Cailan said. “But we need to speak of more than just duty. Think of opportunity, Alistair.”

Cailan took time to thank the guard that held the door open for them as they passed through it. They were back in the palace, but near the barracks since they’d just left the practice yard. There were still ears here that shouldn’t hear what Cailan had to say, and they walked further on in silence. When they reached a study, Cailan opened the door, checked that no one was in the room and turned to Alistair.

“The truth is I need your help. Even with all of the lessons and those short trips to Gwaren or Highever over the years, Father’s never left me in charge for so long. I know that one day I will be King Cailan, but he doesn’t think I’m ready for that day yet.”

“What can I do about that?” Alistair asked, nonplussed.

“Your girlfriend, she told you a lot about dwarven culture, did she?” Cailan asked, catching Alistair off-guard.

“Princess Aeducan?” Alistair said, stalling for time. He almost slipped and called her Vaia, but he tried not to say her first name aloud unless he was alone. If someone heard him referring to her like an intimate, they might just get ideas in their head, perhaps tell his father…

“Yes, her.” Cailan gave him an arch look, somewhat amused at the question.

“Well, I guess she did. Much of it had to do with all the ceremonial customs and all of that, but some of it was about their society,” Alistair said, still bewildered.

“See!” Cailan sounded triumphant. “Your knowledge would make you an excellent trade minister. You could sit in on meetings, add your insight and learn more. We could show Father how beneficial it was for you to go to Orzammar.”

“Maybe I could go back,” Alistair mused, quiet as the thought settled on him.

“Maybe. But more than that, you can use your brain. You’ve a good head for history — we both know it was your best subject — and though you’re good at tactics, you’ll never replace Loghain. This is your chance to shine, little brother,” Cailan said.

“And yours, for putting me there.”

Cailan laughed his booming chuckle again. “Yes, well of course. It proves to Maric that I can make sound decisions. By putting you in the right place, a position better suited to your personality, he’ll have to see that I am ready for more decision making. He can trust me to make choices and appointments.”

Alistair thought on it. Maric was reluctant to hand any of the burdens of ruling over to either of them, and this could benefit them both. Plus, he might see Vaia again. Maybe not soon, but there was a chance that one day. In his heart, Alistair knew that there was little that could come of it. She’d never even seen the sky, for the Maker’s sake. But he loved her, and held that love as close to him as he could. If there was even a chance that he could be with her again, he should take it.

Cailan said nothing as Alistair thought, but it was clear that he was waiting on his answer. 

“I think I’d like to work with the trade minister,” Alistair said finally. “Maybe I can help.”

“Perfect, perfect! This will work out well, Alistair, I can just feel it. Father will have to see that we both can handle more than he’s given us,” Cailan said.

“When do we start?”

“Don’t worry about that, we can get underway when Father takes to the sea for his journey. He’s going to Wycome — practically Antiva — so he’ll be gone for some time. We’ll be well into our experiment before he gets back, and we’ll have time to straighten out any unexpected messes. He’ll have to listen once he’s back and we’ve been having a go at it for weeks.”

Alistair found himself smiling at Cailan, who was beaming back at him. It was rare that they worked together. Cailan had his duties and Alistair, so much younger and not nearly as important, had more lessons than duties. This was the first time he could remember collaborating with his brother on more than pranks or royal events.

“Alistair, I have to ask,” Cailan said. “Are you only agreeing to this to get back to Orzammar?” Cailan frowned, as if the thought had just soured his plans by popping into his head.

“That’s not, I mean, no. I would like to go there, to see her, but Maker’s breath, Cailan. You didn’t offer to send me on a trip, just to have me sit in some meetings. I know if I do see her again, it would be some time down the road.”

“I wondered if it was perhaps cruel that you two still love each other, and to offer you this slim hope. I don’t know, Alistair, I really don’t. I love Anora, but I am not in love with her. I have only been in love with one woman, and I gave up any hope with her. I cannot advise you in impossible matters of the heart. All I can do is be a touch jealous,” Cailan admitted with a small smile.

“Well that makes me feel a little miserable,” Alistair said, and Cailan laughed.

“Ah, then we know it is true love.”

“Who was this mysterious love of yours?” Alistair asked, cautious but letting his curiosity get the better of him.

Cailan didn’t answer for a few long moments, and when he did, it was in a quiet voice. “It was a few years ago. I knew it couldn’t last, but I never thought to see the end of it. The world can be cruel, little brother, even to princes and kings. If I could save you the burden of that, I would send you to Orzammar now.”

“I’m sorry, Cailan.”

“Me too.” Cailan said. “But we’ve planning to do. Father leaves in just a few days and he’ll want us to see him off. Then we can get you sitting in on some meetings and training the guard.” Cailan smiled over at him, though it was tinged with sadness. “Sleep up, little brother. Your days are about to get much busier.”

Alistair couldn’t wait to tell Vaia in his next letter.

#

This wasn’t the letter he expected to be writing. Alistair had to say something, because Vaia’s last letter had reached him, bursting full of hope and questions. It seemed that the Maker’s grace had seen that missive through to her when his others were going astray. Hopefully that same hand would guide this important message to her, because Alistair needed her to know.

“My dearest Vaia,

I hope this letter finds you in a better state than I am. I’m not sure when or even if this will reach you, but I couldn’t not write. It’s been eight weeks since my father left Denerim, and his ship is thought to have gone down in the open sea. That probably makes no sense to you, without knowing much about the sea and how endless it can be on the surface, but that makes it near impossible to search.

I guess what I’m saying is that my father is dead. If he isn’t, well, I don’t know. The Chantry has presumed that he is and my brother Cailan will be crowned in the next month. I’m now the Crown Prince of Ferelden until Cailan and Anora have heirs. This is the most scared I’ve ever been in my whole life.

Last time I wrote I talked about my dreams of going back to Orzammar regularly with the trade minister. I said I would see you no matter what, even if you’d married and our lives had completely changed. Funny thing is, it’s completely changed now, and I haven’t even done anything to make it happen. 

I’m rambling, and I know it. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to see you as I had hoped. My father is gone, there will be a new King of Ferelden, and none of this feels real. Maker, I wish you were here.

I should sign off now. It’s well into the night, but I couldn’t sleep. Actually, it’s almost dawn, but writing this has made me tired enough that I might be able to get some rest before it’s time for me to rise again.

Love always,  
Alistair


	18. Chapter 18

The pool of water rippled under Vaia’s distracted gaze, eddying from some unseen current that stirred it. Water was essential, even under the ground, but she couldn’t imagine endless stretched of it, vast and frightening as Alistair had described the water that took his father from him. She often came to the pool to reflect, and after reading Alistair’s letter, she needed the quiet. It was late, but she couldn’t read her letters in private until she’d been left alone to sleep. Of course, after that letter she couldn’t sleep, so she’d dragged a guard with her and gone to the pool of water. Orzammar was quiet behind them, the stalls shuttered and the bulk of the populace abed. In the morning she was expected at breakfast, but she had to vent as much as she could before she faced the crowd in the morning.

She wept for King Maric, for both of his sons and their grief. It was a crime to lose such a man, filled such vitality. Surely, he would have had years left, if not for this disastrous ship voyage. Though she hadn’t truly known the human king, Vaia felt connected to him through her love for Alistair. By the Stone, how she longed to be with him, now more than ever. His message of grief reached her just after the official pronouncement from Ferelden, and she thought that he might have sent them along together, hers tucked into some messengers cloak with some extra coin to keep it secret.

Sleep didn’t come easy to her that night, one of the few times that she didn’t sleep like the Stone from whence she came. As she dressed, her memories came back to her, and she could think of nothing but King Maric’s laugh of delight as he drank with Trian in the main hall. She sighed heavily, unhappy and angry about the unfairness of it all. King Maric should have had years left to live, years with his sons.

King Maric’s death was the first thing her father said that morning, and Vaia was relieved to see that she wasn’t the only one looking sorrowful after the announcement. Breakfast took a somber turn after the announcement with little chatter. Vaia must have looked her grief because King Endrin spoke on it.

“My daughter Vaia is overflowing with compassion. Her sorrows for Ferelden’s sorrows as are all of ours in Orzammar,” he said, nodding approvingly at her as he spoke. “Long live King Cailan,” he added.

Trian shot her a scathing look, but joined in their father’s toast to King Cailan. Vaia tried to keep her composure in front of the nobles gathered. There had been far too many rumors about her and the human royals after they’d gone. They’d died out, of course, supplanted by other more juicy gossip. Her looking overly concerned about a death would add fuel to that fire again, and she didn’t need that.

Bhelen wasn’t at the breakfast, because he wasn’t allowed at the regular breakfasts. As a child, he couldn’t attend many courtly functions. Vaia thought it ridiculous that Bhelen was still considered a child. He had yet to undergo his rite of passage, sure, but he already had fathered a daughter with one of the noble-hunters. He took care of her too, though there was little he could officially do for a daughter. The diligence he showed in following up with his illegitimate daughter spoke well of him to Vaia, and made him man enough in her eyes.

But her father disagreed, the one time she tried to speak to him about it. Trian also didn’t like that their brother had a daughter with a woman that was little more than a prostitute. Vaia doubted that Trian had ever indulged without anyone outside of the proper bloodlines, if even then. He would mostly certainly disown her if he ever found about the liaison she’d carried on with Alistair and how she still cared for him. There was no romance in Trian, not at all, but Bhelen might be different. She didn’t know, because she didn’t really know her younger brother.

She and Bhelen weren’t close, neither in their relationship or in age, but Vaia wished that they were. Once she and Trian had been, he was her doting elder brother before his staunch traditionalism came out. There had never been much closeness between her and Bhelen and she was sorry for it, but unsure how to remedy the situation. He was just always on his own, and Vaia was sure that hadn’t been easier nor good for him.

“Atrast Vala, big sister. Do you have some time to talk?” Bhelen asked. She hadn’t even realized that he was around, but Vaia wasn’t surprised to see him. He’d always been like that, even as a small babe, turning up in the least likely places and asking questions. She smiled at her younger brother, hoping that he might be encouraged by it. Bhelen smiled back at her, but it was false, the smile of a politician. Better than nothing, Vaia supposed.

“Sure,” Vaia said. Though she meant it, she was distracted. Part of her itched for her quill, to sit at her desk with quiet and compose a proper letter for Alistair to convey her sorrows.

“Pardon me, my lady, but we don’t actually have time,” Gorim said, cutting in smoothly. “I’m sorry Prince Bhelen, but your sister is expected by her troops. Her upcoming mission to the Deep Roads requires another planning meeting. We must be on our way if we are to get there on time.”

“I am sorry, Gorim, I forgot. Please Bhelen, excuse me. We shall speak another time,” Vaia said.

“Of course, I forgot how busy you’ve been of late. Come see me when you have a chance,” Bhelen called after her.

Vaia forgot the encounter almost as soon as it happened.

#

King Endrin wasn’t well and hadn’t been for some time, but the fact of it was well-hidden from the common folk. There might be rumors, but there were always rumors or some kind gossip about the king, his family and their general status. The Aeducans were always worthy of note. King Endrin however, had long been suffering from a malady that sapped his strength and left him abed after most days. He had to rest for long periods to maintain his appearance of vigor. The whole family helped him maintain his fiction, because he would let them do no less. He was still their king. It wouldn’t due to have the whole of the Assembly know that he was weakened. That would invite more trouble and assassination attempts than they already had to deal with.

Vaia sat with her father that evening after dinner. She had stopped weeping, but her mind was still with Alistair. It never showed outwardly, but she often thought of him while she sat here, wondering if he had to do something similar with his royal father. No longer, she supposed, if it had ever been. King Endrin sat propped against pillows on his bed while she talked. Her reports were delivered at this time, and he often offered her counsel. It was in this spirit that she brought up the passing of King Maric.

“Father, I would like to send my condolences to King Cailan along with the words of acknowledgement and remembrance from Orzammar. Would that be permitted?” she asked.

“You are too kind, Vaia.” Endrin said, his temper evident in his tone. He was not careful but disappointed, and she felt the stirring of shame within her in response to his chastising tone. “It is a good thing you are not my heir, lest the humans think that they might turn that kindness to their advantage,” her father said.

The only response she gave was to stiffen in her seat, unhappy with the answer but determined not to show it. He still saw what she had tried to hide, his eyes keen and attuned to her nature. Endrin knew his dutiful daughter, and saw the slight shift in her posture. It would take far more practice to hide from her father.

“You mislike my answer, dear daughter? By all means, write your condolences. But do not wish for the sky, my daughter, or you might get it.”

“Father?” Vaia asked, startled. She couldn’t have heard him right.

King Endrin turned away from his daughter, his back to her as he said. “Take up your place as commander and do not forget your place in the Stone, child. You cannot have both Stone and sky.”

“Yes, father,” Vaia said, her eyes downcast. “I understand.”

“Good girl. Leave me now, and send Harrowmont in,” he said, still not looking at her. She felt like she’d been slapped and her steps were uneven as she left the room.

Harrowmont was just outside, as he was every evening when she left the room. This most trusted advisor and friend was always the last to see her father in the evening before he retired. If he noticed her distress, he did nothing to alleviate it. He just nodded and went by her, as if nothing at all was wrong. She could feel the guards staring at her as she struggled to keep her face composed. The urge to scream in her own defense made her throat close up, tears welling behind eyes she kept trained on the floor as she walked to her quarters. Despite all of her efforts, her shoulders still hunched, broadcasting her dejection. The guards that lined the corridors pretended not to see it as she walked by, giving their regular greetings to the Lady Aeducan. She shut the door on the last one, and didn’t bother with a lamp.

Was she really seeking in the sky? The surface was as verboten to her as Dust Town. She could hardly go to either place, and they were almost the same amount of steps away from the Diamond Quarter. The sky seemed so terrifying and yet, Alistair was there. While she was certain that her father didn’t know the details of that relationship, he must have known something, or else he wouldn’t have given her that warning. What had he heard or discerned? Could it have been that all this time he’d known and she’d just been fooling herself? If so, why had he waited to give her a warning now? The whole thing made her head ache to think about. Dwarven politics meant always watching her back, but Vaia hadn’t known that she couldn’t even trust her father to be on her side. Her family wasn’t exactly warm, but this chilled her blood.

Maybe she had no place in the Stone after all.

#

Alistair didn’t like the Chantry in Denerim. The solemnity of it all made him uncomfortable, but in particular he didn’t like the vastness of this building. When he died, he’s leaving a stipulation that there be a big party. One big party for him, and good looking portrait on display, people around to tell jokes and stories about him. He was fairly sure Andraste won’t mind if after his cremation they have a party instead of a memorial service. Even dead, he probably wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole thing.

They were alone in the Chantry, because this service was private, for the family of King Maric. For all the people that had known and loved him, there were just the three of them that counted as family. Public mourning had already begun and with most of Denerim swathed in their mourning colors. Everyone was so sad, and Cailan had to go out and face them while he and Anora stayed to finalize the plans for the public memorial service. The people of Ferelden had to mourn their king now that it was official. HIs father, dead. Officially. Declared so by the Chantry so they could make Cailan king. King Cailan sounded so strange in Alistair’s mind.

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me_

Maker, he was so tired. It was just him and Cailan and Anora to take care of all the things. Loghain had refused, flat out, to believe that Maric was dead. He was already planning to go search for him, and wouldn’t attend the memorial on principle. He swore Maric was still alive. Alistair wished he was right. Maybe his father had just bumped his head and would be found living in Antiva with no memories of his old life, working in a vineyard. But then, wouldn’t that be like losing him again, to find him and know that he couldn’t remember the man he’d once been?

_I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm._

Alistair shook his head to dislodge all the thoughts trying to force their way through his head at once. His father, Maric, King, was gone and there was nothing Alistair could do but go on. That was the thought at least, he didn’t have to like it. Going on was easier said than done. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do anymore. He and Cailan had laid all of these plans out for when their father got back, but none of them would play out that way anymore.

_I shall endure_

Tears had deserted him. To be honest, he wasn’t much of a crier, it was more his style to deflect pain with humor. Laughing made things manageable. This is why he wanted a party instead of a funeral. For one brief, confused moment his overtired mind thought ‘I’ll have to tell Vaia that I want a party’, before he remembered that she was only on the surface in his dreams. It wasn’t fair, because when he needed her the most, when he wanted her to be by his side, there was absolutely no way she could be. She was somewhere underground, sitting in a silk gown that complimented the color of her eyes, pretending to be the perfect dutiful princess of Orzammar. It wasn’t at all fair. He wanted her, and Cailan had Anora, but Alistair only had himself.

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder_

She would be here if she could. Vaia would stay at his side, he knew it. Perhaps it was time to give up this foolish dream of love so far away, but Alistair couldn’t. He’d just lost his father, he wasn’t about to give up Vaia either. What they had in Orzammar was beautiful, and he’d never forget it, even if he never saw her again. But he was going to see her again, it seemed as certain as the next sunrise as the Chant of Transfigurations washed over him. He just had to be willing to wait for that chance.

Alistair said the next lines along with the Chanter, sotto voce. He was thinking of her and family and all of love and loss. There was a comfort in the Chant that he’d not needed before, but it came to him then, like a warm breeze just before dawn.

_Who knows me as You do?_   
_You have been there since before my first breath._   
_You have seen me when no other would recognize my face._   
_You composed the cadence of my heart_

Beside him on the pew, he felt Cailan start to cry. He put his arm around his brother, just as Anora reached for his hand. Funny, Alistair felt like he was all out of tears.


	19. Chapter 19

So many things changed rapidly after Cailan formally ascended to the throne, Alistair wasn’t sure what was what from one day to the next. Anora usually kept him informed, as well as she could. She had become a much more important part of his and Cailan’s life than either of them could have imagined and Alistair was grateful for it. Anora was the calm one, the one that knew just what to do in a crisis. It was a little surprising just how relentless she was, but then again, she was the daughter of Loghain.

Alistair found himself admiring Anora. Not for her beauty, though she was pretty enough he supposed — though he still though longingly of Vaia. But her mind was sharp and fair and she was indefatigable in her quest to do right as the queen. Her passion at the latter surprised him, though maybe it shouldn’t have. Yes, they’d known her for all their lives, but Anora was always held away from them, separate. As children, they’d played, but she was never allowed to do all the things they did. While they played with their practice swords, she got in trouble for picking one up without intending to practice. It was always something like that, so many rules for one young girl and all of them seemed arbitrary.

Whatever the reason behind her stern upbringing, it had turned Anora into steel. Cailan may have been king, but she was holding them together. It was she that figured out how to divide duties amongst the three of them, with Loghain gone from Ferelden on his search and all of them poor, inexperienced substitutes. There was no telling how long he would be absent. Without him and Maric, there was a distinct lack of experience at the top. It could have led to chaos, but Anora wouldn’t allow it.

She summoned him late one morning, after he’d eaten and been about his work for hours. Alistair entered her study and found her staring at a missive on her desk with such an obvious look of distaste contorting her face he had to laugh. “You’re looking at that like it’s a smelly sock,” he said, drawing up the chair in front of her desk.

“It is the condolences from Empress Celene,” Anora said, her expression righting itself, though Alistair could still see the remnants of disgust she failed to hide. “She wanted to send an honor guard for the public ceremony and I refused her. I thought it best at the time. No Fereldan wants to know that their king is dead and here are some chevaliers marching through Denerim.” She sighed and it was an expression of true fatigue, though it was early yet. “What did you need, Alistair?”

He stared at her for a moment, then spoke. “You requested a meeting for this morning,” he said slowly, giving her time to remember.

“Did I? I’m sure I wrote it down somewhere then,” she said, shuffling through parchment on her desk. She must have found her notes because she began searching again, this time with more determination. Then she frowned and pulled out a large, black leather bound book.

“Alistair, we’re broke,” she said.

He stood up and reached into his pocket. There had to be something on him. He held out the contents in his hand. There was a sovereign and three coppers along with a slip of paper and some string.

“It’s not much, but if you need it,” Alistair offered.

Anora shook her head. “Not me — wait, where did you get coppers?”

He sat down, putting the coins and detritus back into his pocket. “The kennel master gives me coppers for letting the mabari chase me around the garden.”

Anora laughed despite herself, uncertain if that was true. “Alistair, you’re a prince of Ferelden,” she began but Alistair joined in her laughter.

“I was joking, Anora. Everyone knows I do that for free. So if it’s not you wanting to borrow my coppers, then we must be talking about Ferelden.” He sighed, feeling more tired than he had any right to be before he’d even heard the worst of it.

That made the last of the laughter flicker from her face. It was odd to see her so happy, even for a moment. Her smiles had been rare since before Maric died, but they’d been all but lost after. She was at once serious again, and looking even more exhausted than he felt.

“I assure you the situation is not quite dire, but pretty close. King Maric was doing a good job at boosting our trade relations with other places, especially Orzammar. I think some good came of your visit there, though we could do with more ties to the Free Marches. We’ll have to focus on those going forward.”

“What does not dire mean?” Alistair asked.

“That we aren’t going to lose the kingdom this month, but perhaps within a few? I don’t have money to pay the soldiers, Alistair. Denerim will fall short of food. We need more of just about everything and we don’t have it right now,” Anora said.

“What can I do?” Because as much as he would like to assist, Alistair wasn’t at all sure what he could do with this information. He wasn’t the one to broker trade contracts or whatever it was that needed doing.

Anora pinched the bridge of her nose again, and he knew that her head must well and truly be aching. There was a real look of despair when she finally met his eye again.

“Nothing for now. I will let you know, but I appreciate your willingness to help.”

“C’mon Anora, that’s what we do here. We help Ferelden to be better,” Alistair said. She nearly scoffed, but softened her scorn into something that merely sounded disbelieving and not scathing.

“You are one of the few people here that could utter a sentence like that and have me believe it. We’re just going to go on and do our best for now. Bann Teagan arrived last night. I believe he wants to go out on a hunt with you and Cailan, if there’s time. You should speak to him.”

“Teagan’s here? That’s great.” Alistair was happy to hear it. He missed Teagan a great deal. They hadn’t seen him much since Cailan married Anora, though he had been around for Maric’s funeral.

Alistair left Anora’s study wishing there was more that he could do. Perhaps if he could remember the names of some dwarven merchant families — but no, Alistair realized that their politics was even thornier than those on the surface. Just the vambraces alone made him nervous to think back on. So much symbolism in a damned accessory! But then, he remembered Vaia gently explaining everything to him, showing him the way that things should be done. That was the night she’d kissed him, when he’d learned about the vambraces. Maker, he missed her.

Great, now he was broke and had an ache in his chest that nothing could fix. He went on to find Teagan, his walk a little heavier as he moved down the hall.

#

Denek Helmi was seeking Trian’s permission to court Vaia, and by all accounts, the process was going well. Trian would make his recommendation to the king and King Endrin would likely approve the match. So long as the courtship didn’t go completely awry, a wedding would take place sooner rather than later.

She would have to be married to Denek Helmi. He wasn’t a bad sort, but really not the type of man she’d ever thought to see herself with, even before Alistair. Though Denek was a deshyr, politics wasn’t his passion. He had an idealistic streak that was unappealing to her because it consisted of all talk and no action. He wanted to change things, but never wanted to initiate the changes himself, or take risks. Denek was too involved in his own safety, in making sure his house prospered to be really radical. But House Helmi had long been trying to marry into her house, and she understood the desire for their boldest son to become an Aeducan. That’s what would happen, not the other way around, because hers was the higher house.

It made Vaia feel lost to even know that this proposal was even being considered, but what could she do? Letters from Alistair grew fewer and fewer, and though she wrote to him faithfully, she worried that with the loss of his father, grief eclipsed love in his heart. There was no way for her to get to the surface and comfort him, and little chance of him coming back to Orzammar. Maybe in a few years, but by then she’d be married, as likely he would too.

Not all was bleak on the horizon, however. Preparations for her first command were shaping up nicely, and they were planning to go into the Aeducan thaig. Going into her ancestral thaig excited her, even if she wasn’t sure at all what they would be looking for inside. Her father and Harrowmont had some kind of plan, and all Vaia could do was to do her best. Things were tense between her and father lately, and she didn’t want to risk further displeasure. He could be a hard man to live with at times, and she didn’t want to stay in disfavor.

“Princess Vaia, the king has summoned you to the throne room,” Gorim said, coming into her room. She was just out of her practice armor, but in no way ready for an audience with her father.

“Come Gorim, tie my stays? If I am summoned we must be swift, but I can’t go like this,” she said, motioning to her half-dressed state.

Gorim said nothing as he helped her dress, but his fingers were gentle on her back. He was so kind, and more than once she’d caught his gazes, but she hadn’t returned his affections. There was too much between them, and now with Alistair in her heart, she couldn’t think of anyone else. Her heart was heavy whenever she thought of him, Cailan and their father sweeping through the halls of her city like strange, majestic giants. Poor King Maric. She hoped Cailan fared better than his father.

“Did my father say why I was summoned?” Vaia asked as she pulled a caul over her untidy hair. It would have to do for now.

“No, my lady. But your brothers were both there already.”

“All right,” Vaia said, forgoing most of her face paints save for some crimson on her lips. “Let’s go.”

They walked into the throne room as her father was hearing audiences. She would have to wait for a long time, she knew, because she’d made him wait. Vaia sat primly with Gorim at her side, eyes unseeing and lost in her own thoughts. She almost didn’t hear herself called, but Gorim’s pointed elbow brought her to attention. Vaia curtseyed to her father, and then awaited whatever had called her to his attention.

“My daughter Vaia is to become a commander soon. All of the city shall celebrate her achievement with a Grand Proving,” he proclaimed, speaking not to her but to the whole of the court over her shoulder. Vaia stood still and waited for the commotion that greeted his words to die down.

“I am honored, my king,” Vaia said, but didn’t offer anything else.

“Your expedition leaves at the end of the month?” he asked, though she knew that he was quite aware of when she’d be leaving.

“Yes, father.”

“In the days before we shall hold our proving and celebrate. Thank you, Vaia, you are dismissed. Go and attend the rest of your duties,” he said, waving his hand imperiously over her.

“A Grand Proving,” Trian muttered as she went past, displeasure dripping from each word.

She knew why — Trian had a banquet when he debuted as a commander, but no city-wide celebrations. He was taking this as an insult, though she could hardly see why his ire would be directed at her. She hadn’t declared her own proving. But then again, he could hardly openly be angry with their father. Vaia looked back at her brother, his face smooth and unreadable, but anger etched into every line of his body. Yes, he would much rather be angry with her than their father, and for some reason the thought of that filled her with fear.

As she was leaving, Denek Helmi caught her eye and came over. Politeness dictated that she stop to talk to him, though she rather wanted to keep walking. He strode over, confident and sure, and bent to kiss her hand.

“My lady Aeducan, I had hoped to see you today. Your brother Trian will present my case to the king later, and then hopefully we can get to know each other better,” he said.

Whatever she’d first thought about Denek, she realized his eyes were sharp, appraising as they subtly raked over her. He was cannier than he appeared, at least in the matters of people were concerned. Whatever she did or didn’t do, he’d notice it. Vaia smiled at him, looking him straight in the eyes.

“I look forward to it,” she said without blinking. Denek held onto her hand for a second longer and then dropped it with a smile.

“Lady Aeducan, the pleasure is all mine,” Denek said, and he was so earnest she believed him.

He wasn’t a bad man at all, and for whatever reason, he seemed to truly like her, but his touch left her cold. Vaia endured another moment or two of polite talk with Denek, then a smile from Nerav Helmi, who was standing nearby. Once, they had been friends, but she hadn’t seen Nerav since both Trian and Bhelen had rejected her. Vaia felt her own smile failing and gave Gorim a pleading look. He took her meaning at once and led her from the throne room, saying nothing at all. Back in her own bedroom, he left her, and Vaia let her tears fall, uncertain she liked where her life was heading.

#

There were private forests just outside of Denerim that were just for the crown to hunt in, and that was where Teagan took Cailan and Alistair and a retinue of guards. There were many more than they needed, but after the death of Maric, the guards were insistent that they come in force to protect both heirs. Anora was kept back at the palace since they couldn’t stop both Alistair and Cailan from going out with Teagan.

“It’s a good thing you’ve come, Alistair,” Teagan said. “I’ve been meaning to talk with both of you.”

“What about, Uncle Teagan?” Cailan asked, cutting Alistair off before he could even open his mouth. They walked carefully through the thick forest, making far too much noise to surprise any beast. Instead, they were hunting with traps and fishing while they left the traps to do their work. Later, some of the guards could retrieve them.

It was a shame really, because Teagan was a rather skilled hunter and tracker, but Alistair supposed that it was better than another day stuck in the castle. Anora looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and no one at all was talking to him. Everyone rushed around with drawn faces, whispering, but never saying much at all. A grim foreboding hung over the palace, like all it would take is another small catastrophe and Ferelden would unravel, leaving it ripe for the Orlesians. No one wanted a ripe Ferelden.

“We need order more than anything, and both of you play an essential role in making sure Ferelden is stable,” Teagan said, eyeing them both as he set out a trap. He was a little ways away from them, carefully placing his snare in the middle of a copse of trees.

“What can I do?” Alistair asked, a little petulantly. He was tired of hearing all of these dire warnings and then not being able to do a thing about it. Ferelden was unstable, broke and demoralized but apparently that wasn’t for him to worry himself about.

“You can play an important role, Alistair. Your prowess with a weapon can’t be denied. You are more the warrior than your brother or I. In rallying the strength of our forces, people will look to you as Loghain’s successor,” Teagan said.

“Me?” Alistair squeaked, and heard the flapping of wings at the sound. “I mean, Loghain is a general, a teyrn, a war hero. I’m not going to replace him.”

“Yes, you are,” Cailan said. “That’s what you’ve been training to do, even before Father died. Did you not know?”

Both Teagan and Cailan were looking at him too patiently, with a little too much pity for his liking. Of course he’d known he was training, but he thought it was just something to keep the spare heir busy, not anything real. He’d wanted to go back to Orzammar, be unimportant second son Alistair, not a general. Not a hero. He wasn’t a hero, not at all. Cailan leaned down and placed his own snare in a likely area of low brush as Alistair tried to think of something to say.

“If I’m to be a general, then why are we out here catching rabbits?” he asked at long last. It wasn’t what he really wanted to say, but the rest of the words wouldn’t come out.

“Because the palace is low on food,” Teagan informed him with a sigh, “as is the city. Maker help us if there is a drought this summer.”

Then, out there with the guards standing behind them and the birds flying overhead, Alistair understood. He would never get back to Orzammar unless he had to fight a battle there. He would never see Vaia again. Whatever promises Cailan had tried to make him weren’t worth a damn now, because his responsibilities outweighed them. It was sobering and Alistair stood there watching Teagan with new eyes as he set another snare, then motioned for them to go further into the woods.

His feet almost didn’t obey, but Alistair followed, as he always had. Teagan was talking again, this time to Cailan, probably delivering more unwelcome truths, but Alistair didn’t hear them. He would write her one last time, and maybe he’d be strong enough to say goodbye outright.


	20. Chapter 20

Orzammar was whispering, but Vaia could only catch snatches. They knew how ill her father was, despite all his attempts to maintain the appearance of normality. Somehow the word that he spent most of his time recovering, locked in his room and summoning his children to him to carry out his will had filtered out to the people. Everyone, from the nobles to the servant class knew that the king would return to the stone sooner rather than later, and Vaia could only watch as the healers attended her father, retreating with shaking heads and downcast looks as they left each day without actually healing him.

There was some truths that weren’t quite captured by the swirl of whispers and rumors. Endrin, when he had the strength, raged at all of them. Though he was ailing, his bellowing hadn’t suffered, and his angry shouts could be heard ringing throughout the halls of the royal palace of Orzammar. Guards outside the king’s private quarters were tense and tried to appear oblivious as each chastened member of the royal family slunk past them. Endrin was harshest to his eldest son, he called Trian a failure, lamented his lack of charisma to any that would listen, and disparaged his mother. He oft was heard questioning Trian’s fitness, for he had yet to produce an heir with any of the noble hunters or the Aeducan concubines, and had no wife. Bhelen he brushed aside as a child, though her youngest brother had reached his majority. He was barely mentioned and whenever he was summoned to his father’s side, as they were all called him these days, he left with a thunderous expression and sad eyes. 

For her part, Vaia was much like a nug ready to be slaughtered. Her father thought of her as little more than a pawn in his final game, and was suddenly no longer satisfied with the betrothal to Denek Helmi that had once gained his approval. Vaia was to be raised as far up as her royal father could, and then sold off to the fattest purse, whether they be allies or no. She would almost rather wed Denek Helmi now just to head off the spectacle that was coming. After her foray into the Deep Roads, when she was a commander in more than just name, then her father would make his move.

Vaia retreated to her room after her father had shouted his disappointment in his children, revealing that he’d never thought her one of his heirs at all, just a useful woman to bargain off. Even if she ‘didn’t have the strength of character to breed a child’, her father assured her that she would, ‘still be useful for her connections’, to any family she married into. In this last instance, Trian had stood in the corner of the room, nodding in agreement with her father.

She had to do something about Trian. Yesterday, he’d berated her at dinner, calling her intelligence into question and dismissing her attempt to defend herself. It still rankled that morning when she woke up and had to eat breakfast among the sniggers from the obesquious deshyrs in attendance. His anger at her grew every day at an improbable rate, and it was getting out of hand. It was so irrational, Vaia knew that it wasn’t wholly of her making, though nothing she did seemed to lessen his ire. 

For the last few days, she’d tried to be more cautious and proactive. She and Gorim already had many people they trusted that passed information, but that was usually an arrangement borne of mutual benefit and happenstance. They were now seeking information, because Orzammar’s upheaval, the illness of her father and Trian’s intense anger, it only made sense in one way. A coup.

Whomever was moving behind the scenes seemed to want her alive but out of the way, at least that is what she and Gorim decided. Perhaps it was someone she spurned, or rejected in some way, but humiliation and disinheritance seemed like two of the most likely ways for her to fall. It ran completely counter to her father’s plans for her. Vaia wasn’t quite sure who was fueling it, but she was certain that someone was orchestrating her fall from favor, and they were concentrating their efforts on diminishing her in the eyes of Trian, the presumed heir for the throne. Without knowing who it was, she’d have to tread carefully.

“My lady,” Gorim entered her chambers as Vaia lay on her bed. The headache she’d claimed wasn’t real, but her fatigue was. The day before she’d been stuck at a lengthy luncheon with several ladies that put her on her guard. Small talk with people she was sure hated her hadn’t been easy, and made more difficult by her trying to make it seem light and effortless. She’d eaten nothing during the entire three hour ordeal.

“Gorim, pray tell me you have good news.”

“I hate to disappoint, my lady, but there isn’t much of that going around Orzammar,” he said. “It is said that Prince Trian burns with envy, that it is you that your father sees as his rightful successor.”

Vaia snorted. “Gorim, that is not at all the case whenever I see him. He’s more interested in how many suitors he can line up for me, the prize nug of all of Orzammar.”

“That’s not how Trian sees it, or so I am told. He’s angry that your father is focusing his final moments of strength on elevating you, when Trian feels like he should be searching for a wife for him.”

“Trian rejected all of the suits that came forth! No women in the noble caste wants him because of him, not because father didn’t try to make a match.”

“My lady, all I heard was of Prince Trian’s jealousy, of your favor with your father. Perhaps there is more that you aren’t understanding. The King may sound harsh, but he has never been one to shower you with affection, and has put much of his energy these past weeks into making sure you don’t have to marry whomever Trian picks for you.”

That was true enough, Vaia considered. She thanked Gorim and went back to lie in her bed until dinner. If she were to successfully deflect Trian’s wrath, it would take all of her strength.

Gorim and whatever source he’d found had spoken truly. At dinner that night, Trian lost no time in launching into another tirade against her, this time working himself into a dither about her lack of education and moral character. Trian was a yeller, and once he got into full steam there was no stopping him. Vaia decided to head him off before he could go on too far.

“Prince Trian, perhaps you should rest. You’ve forgotten yourself, and I wouldn’t want my beloved brother to say something ill-informed at dinner,” Vaia said, baring her teeth when she smiled. The table grew hushed, even quieter than when Trian yelled.

“Are you telling me what to do?” Trian barked at her, but Vaia, ready, shook her head at him.

“Not at all. Just suggesting that perhaps you’ve forgotten that we studied with the same military leaders and that when I began to lead, my rank of lieutenant was earned in battle not given to me. Rest might restore your memory, so that you can accurately recall this common knowledge.”

It was true. Women had to earn officer status, even as a royal. Trian had merely walked onto the field a lieutenant, but Vaia had earned each of her ranks through instruction, training and maneuvers. Commander was not just a courtesy for her, but the next logical step in a military career. Certainly she hadn’t had to fight on the front lines with the warrior caste, she would not usurp their duty, but she hadn’t had as easy of a time as Trian.

Her brother, thwarted, could think of no response to her, and for once, she enjoyed her dinner. Trian sent her dark looks down the table, but held his tongue. His dinner companions must have been as relieved as she was, for the conversation was much more lively. Tomorrow he would be angrier still with her, but that wasn’t to be helped. Let the rest of the court see that she would not let Trian rage at her unchecked.

That evening, when Vaia was back in her quarters after an evening practicing with her troops, on her nightstand was a strange bundle. Carefully, she drew closer, all too aware of the games of dwarven politics, they they may contain traps or poison. She touched it carefully with a gloved hand, and realized that it was a bundle of paper. Letters. Her letters from Alistair, she realized upon looking at them. Some were old, but had been kept unopened, at least as far as she could see.

Someone in the palace didn’t like Trian much at all, not if they were rewarding her for shutting him down today. Trouble was, Vaia didn’t know who it was, or whether or not she was their enemy or their friend. Gifts like these implied that there were more of her letters that had been discovered and taken, and she just couldn’t trust that.

She shivered as she sorted through them, six in all. Oh, Alistair, what had she missed?

#

“No, no, that’s not it. Try it again!” Alistair yelled, feeling himself lose the fight to keep the frustration from his words. Were his face not already flushed from training, he would worry that it too would betray him by turning red. 

This couldn’t last. He was no more a commander than he was a king, and Maker knows he was glad he wasn’t king. The few of his soldiers that were doing well were the veterans, the ones that could take care of themselves. He’d started to let Loghain’s right hand, a woman named Cauthrien, take more and more control. Honestly, he didn’t mind, but he couldn’t stop training or trying, lest Cailan find out. 

“All right, that’s enough for today,” Alistair decided about a half hour later, as a drizzle of rain began to come down. They’d been at it for hours, and he felt like they’d accomplished nothing even close to building a cohesive unit. Only the small groups of sparring ever went well — no one even bothered to listen with Alistair was trying and failing to show them how to make a shield wall.

The soldiers made sounds of relief that mirrored how Alistair felt, though he didn’t show it as they did. He wanted to, but he didn’t. This was Loghain’s job, not his. Leading soldiers into battle was what Loghain was made for — Alistair truly doubted that the man would even want to do anything else at this point in his life — but yet neither he nor Maric felt the need to pass down any knowledge to Alistair before giving him this post.

His feet had almost led him right to Maric’s door before Alistair realized what he was doing. Maric couldn’t help him anymore, not just because that door now belonged to Cailan and was his brother’s study, but because Maric was out of reach. It had taken a while for Alistair to realize that his father wasn’t coming home. This wasn’t just an extended trip to Orlais or the Free Marches; Maric truly was gone. 

He was truly an orphan now, because his father had never really told him much about his mother. He assumed she was dead as well. He didn’t even know what to call her, or what kind of woman she was, only that she hadn’t been Queen Rowan. He would have known that anyway, because as much as he was like his father and brother in looks, there were so many differences that it couldn’t be overlooked. Despite that his mother wasn’t a royal or even a noble, from what little information he’d been able to gather, Alistair had been accepted by his father and raised a prince. 

Whomever she was, his mother wasn’t able to be here with him right now. Part of him desperately wanted someone that could make sense of things, and let him know that the sadness that had settled around him wasn’t going to last forever. Alistair wanted support and as he finally made himself turn from Cailan’s study to go back to his own rooms, he realized he wanted Vaia.

She would understand; she’d lost her mother at an age younger than he was. If he needed to cry, even though he hadn’t done it in front of her in Orzammar, he was sure she wouldn’t think less of him now for it. It was more than just missing her, he’d somehow surpassed anything that could be as mundane as just missing someone. 

“Alistair, there you are!” Cailan came striding towards him, looking a little tired but no less for it. They were all a little more tired these days, so Alistair could understand it. “They’re waiting for you downstairs. Come now, they aren’t going to be here for long.”

“What are we doing?” Alistair asked. His brother didn’t answer him directly, but instead Cailan hustled him down the hall and back towards the main receiving room. 

“They Grey Wardens. I thought you might like the chance to train with him while they’re here. I know you’ve just finished with your men, but they’re only in for the night.”

Grey Wardens were legends, even he knew that. They did whatever it took, things that he in his position couldn’t be asked to do, but they were willing to die to end the Blight on the lands. Alistair admired that kind of purpose, that certainty. It was the way he was supposed to feel about Ferelden, about the troops he led, but that connection had eluded him so far.

“Duncan!” Cailan called as they came into the room. “I want you to meet my brother, Prince Alistair.”

“We’ve met before, Your Highness,” Duncan said as he gave Alistair a bow. “But it has been many years. It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Alistair asked Duncan, and got a small laugh in return. The older warden had a kind laugh, as if he weren’t making fun of Alistair, but about to let him in on the joke. It made Alistair smile back at him before he was aware that he was.

“I’d be worried if you remembered me, Prince Alistair. I was, shall we say part of your retinue, when you first came to live with King Maric, Maker rest his soul.”

A small frisson of panic gripped Alistair. This man knew him and possibly his mother. Aside from Loghain, who would never tell him, Duncan might be a way to find out about her. Even if she were dead, knowing that would be better than wondering. “You’re only staying the one night?” he asked. He had so many questions, things he wanted to say that went beyond ‘do you know who my mother is?’

“We’re on our way to Orzammar, Your Highness. We have business there to attend.”

“Orzammar?” Alistair asked, getting a calm nod from Duncan. Vaia. Maybe these wardens would deliver a message for him. He was worried that their correspondence was getting waylaid, because she didn’t write as often and her last letters had chided him for not writing her. If she only knew, or could get him an answer quicker, maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much or feel so alone. At least she could know, even if she’d started to move on, how much he still loved her.

Cailan clapped Alistair across his back, grinning. “I knew you two would get on well. If you’ll excuse me, I’m to meet with Anora and some advisers in a few minutes. Take care of our guests, Alistair.”

“Of course,” Alistair muttered, but his mind wasn’t on his brother, it was on Duncan. 

“We arrived while you and your soldiers were practicing, but I know some of the wardens are eager to fight again. King Cailan gave us use of your yard for our exercises. Would you care to watch?” Duncan asked. 

“As long as I can ask questions,” Alistair said, then grinned. It felt like the first time he’d done so in some time, his face a little stiff. 

“I would expect nothing less, Your Highness.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Anora, we simply cannot. I am your King, and I will not allow this to happen!” Cailan shouted. Even behind the closed door of the study, his voice carried.

Anora, in an equal fervor, yelled back at him. “King or not, you are acting the fool. It is Ferelden you need worry about, not whether or not you can stop the inevitable!”

“You cannot call me a fool, woman!”

“I can if it fits, and you are most certainly acting the fool!”

Alistair pivoted quickly on the ball of one foot, doing a perfect about face. There was no way he was going to walk into the middle of that, not this time. Instead he turned down the hall towards his quieter quarters, his question for his brother already set aside in his head. As he walked through his door, the fire was already lit in the grate, crackling merrily at him.

He wasn’t feeling too bad for what felt like the first time in a very long time, definitely the best he’d felt since King Maric, well, since his father died. Duncan, the Warden Commander, had sat next to him at dinner and indulged all of his questions. The Grey Wardens had already moved on to Orzammar, but Alistair felt like he was better for having watched and trained with them. Sure, it hadn’t been very much, but Duncan had some pointers and kind words for him, advice about leading and inspiring.

“Leading is never easy, especially not for those that make it look so. I think if you keep working and putting forth a great effort, your soldiers will appreciate it.”

Alistair had thanked Duncan, the words lingering in his head. Then he’d asked for his favor, a large part of the reason he’d wanted to sit next to the Grey Warden Commander at dinner.

“I have a message that must get to Orzammar. Can you bring it to the Princess Aeducan for me?” he’d asked.

“Are none of the diplomatic couriers able to take it?” Duncan asked, concern crossing his face as he cut into his steak pie. It would be weeks before there was more steak in the castle, but as honored guests, the cook had seen fit to use the last of it for dinner with the Grey Wardens. Alistair couldn’t disagree with her choice, though he tried to relish his as he ate.

“It isn’t a diplomatic matter. It’s, well, personal. She just needs to get this, and I’m not sure she’s been getting anything I send,” Alistair said, aware at the last second that he’d perhaps said too much to this Warden, a man he hardly knew but had come to respect.

But instead of the stern lecture he was expecting, Duncan simply nodded. “I will do everything in my power to see that it gets to her,” he said.

It wasn’t the letter he’d intended to send. For all intents and purposes, they weren’t a couple. Both of them knew that — she had her life as a princess of the dwarves and he had his on the surface. But he couldn’t bring himself to write that letter, to tell her with finality that he couldn’t afford to love her anymore. Instead he sent her a poem he’d copied out of a book and a plea for her to write back to him. Another time when his heart didn’t need the thought of her so much, then he would ask her to be his friend, a special, honored friend, but just that. The thought immediately made him long for a life where he was free enough to make his happiness a priority, but he knew his duty.

Alistair wasn’t willing to write that letter, not yet. He still dreamed of her at night, the faint smell of lava and steam and her perfume mixing in his memories. Maker, but he missed her so fiercely, his heart couldn’t handle the thought of ending it all. What if she never wrote to him again? Would he be able to stomach it if Cailan ever sent him to Orzammar and he had to act as if he’d never loved her at all? It may have been a dream that he’d ever see her again, but it was one so close to his heart that he couldn’t let it go.

He’d walked, inexplicably, to his own study. It wasn’t a place where Alistair spent much time, to be honest, because he preferred working out his maneuvers out in the field, where he could practice as he readied for the next day. When he wrote Vaia, for she was his most constant contact, he did so from the privacy of his quarters, where he wasn’t likely to be interrupted. Everything else didn’t require him to spend large amounts of time in his study or at a desk, his days were filled with practicing in the field, hearing reports rather than reading them, and being told what to do by either Anora or Cailan. Since his tutoring had ended, he hadn’t needed a study.

But it was here he sat, mouth scrunched in concentration as he tried to think his way through things for once. The King and Queen were constantly at loggerheads with one another. Ferelden was broke, Denerim was tired and dispirited, he wasn’t command material and the Grey Wardens — pretty much the only people who’d treated him with respect — had already departed.

“Oh here you are, Your Highness,” a voice said, and his maid, a woman named Ina, swept into the room. “This has come for you, and I was going to clean your room. I thought I’d find you there.”

“No, no I’m here now,” Alistair said, feeling like she’d been reproving him for not being where she thought he’d be. “What is it?” he asked, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

“I’ve a package for you, Your Highness. It’s just come,” she said, and Alistair finally noticed the wrapped object in her hands. It could have been a book, unremarkable in its shape or size, but it was wrapped the way gifts were when they came from the dwarven king. It bore the royal seal, and his name alone on the front.

“Thank you, that will be all,” he said crisply, taking the package and barely waiting for the door to close behind Ina as he began to unwrap it.

It had to be from Vaia. He didn’t know now why she’d risk sending him something, when all these long months it had only been her words or something small enough to send in an envelope tucked into a missive, but he would hardly complain. As he eased the paper away, he felt the structure of it, and tried to temper his excitement to be more careful. When he freed it, a letter fluttered from under the out wrappings, but he set it aside, his eyes only on the gift.

She’d sent a portrait. It was small, as if it was meant to be hung low on a wall, where they eye would immediately see it, or more likely, so it could be hidden. In it Vaia was depicted as a the princess she was, in full Aeducan regalia. She gave a hard stare back out of the canvas, and even in the paint he could see the expression of hardness in her gaze. He almost smiled, thinking that she probably hadn’t wanted to sit for the painting at all. Alistair took his time staring at it, drinking in the sight of her after going so long without seeing her face. He wished it were larger, then in the next moment took that wish back and wished more that she were here, with him, and this painting was just something for him to keep above his desk.

When Alistair picked up the letter that had fluttered out of the packaging, it didn’t read as he’d expected it to.

Alistair,

My love, I am short on time, but I wanted to write. I had this made for you from my engagement sitting, and it cost a small fortune to get to the surface. Don’t make that face, I am not engaged yet, it’s merely the practice here to be ready for all possibilities. No matter where I go, or what I do, I will love you always. I hope you remember that as you press through your times of grief.

Love,  
Vaia

There was something in the wording that unsettled Alistair, and for nearly as long as he’d started at her painted visage he tried to work it out. But he came to no conclusions and abandoned the letter and its strangely intense urgency to go back to looking at her.

#

Here it was, one of the most important days of her life, and Vaia was strolling through the marketplace with Gorim by her side. She was clad in her grandmother’s armor, waiting her investiture as a Royal Commander. She’d already earned the rank, but not the royal honors to be bestowed by her father. Endrin was still quite sickly, but had marshaled his strength for her ceremony, even bellowing at Trian in fine form. Vaia hoped it was a sign that her father was on the mend.

Trian had, of course, come out and insulted her in turn, but she’d decided not to pay the kindness down the familial line to Bhelen. Bhelen’d been out in the market as well, and she’d exchanged just a glance with him as Trian stomped off. Whatever her younger brother felt about the situation, she couldn’t see it on his face. His smile never slipped as he walked off with Trian, and Vaia began to wonder how long Bhelen had been plotting his entrance into politics. He most certainly was, with his careful words and his whore that he ardently tried to impregnate at every turn. If he had a son before Trian did, it was strengthen his position in House Aeducan. She turned away from Bhelen, unwilling to think about his likely machinations on a day that was supposed to be hers.

Unexpectedly, Denek Helmi came strolling down the Diamond quarter, ignoring all the merchant booths. He must have been on his way to the Shaper — he just about lived there when he wasn’t at Tapsters — but when he saw Vaia, he stopped to bow and speak to her.

“Princess Aeducan, may I offer my congratulations today,” he said, and she nodded.

“Thank you, Lord Helmi. How are you?” she inquired. She was just trying to be polite, and it never hurt to show interest in him. Her voice, as small as it may be in whatever machinations her family was plotting might still carry weight when it came to her own alliances.

He gave her a wry smile. “I fare well, although my suit for your hand does not. I fear that I must have upset some balance in your house.”

“What do you mean?” Vaia asked, beginning to frown. Her father had put up resistance to Trian’s plan, but she knew not why he didn’t wish to match her with Lord Helmi. They needed the connections, and House Helmi had been trying desperately to make a match this generation.

“I am out of favor with both of your brothers, and my mother respectfully disagrees with King Endrin’s wish that I join your house instead of you mine. I would become a prince, but role at the head of House Helmi would be forfeit,” he said, but then looked over at her. “Surely you knew of Prince Bhelen’s objection to my suit? He but put it forward recently, and he said he had your interests in mind when he did it.”

“This is the first I am hearing of such defense of my interests,” Vaia admitted. “And I am surprised it came from Bhelen. But surely you cannot object so much to joining House Aeducan?”

“I don’t, but my lady mother does. I am the only son of this generation, and specifically her only son.”

She understood, but more importantly she saw that Denek Helmi, who was only mildly interested in her, was never going to fight against his mother. Even the thought of marrying into House Aeducan wasn’t enough enticement for that to happen. She gave Denek a small, sad smile, for even if she didn’t want him there was no reason to be rude.

“I thank you for the information, and wish you the best for the future, Lord Helmi,” Vaia said. She could think of nothing else but wanted to cringe. It sounded like she was never planning to see him again, and she inevitably would.

Denek was just as stoic as always and took her words for the dismissal they were and left. Bhelen’s hands were dipping into the pot, and she had no idea why. For all she’d known before running into Denek Helmi, Bhelen hadn’t cared one way or another to whom she got engaged. Such concern now was troubling, and spoke of veiled intentions that she’d known nothing of. But Vaia, ever cautious, was unwilling to speak about them out in the open, and turned to face Gorim, who was ever at her side.

“So what do you say, Gorim? Want go to my Proving?” Vaia asked. She wanted to leave the grand market and all that she’d done here today behind. She had made her own deals here today, been honored with a dagger, collected on a debt and seen a man sent to death. She wanted some amusement, something more exciting than the marketplace to look back on in her memories.

“And defy Prince Trian’s orders to go back to the palace? Absolutely, my lady,” Gorim answered gamely, grinning wickedly at her.

“I wonder what my dear brother will say if I participate in my own Proving?” Vaia mused, and Gorim who had been walking next to her towards the Proving Grounds, stopped short.

“My lady, I don’t believe such a thing has ever been done before,” Gorim said.

“Today is a good day for doing new things, Gorim. Come on now, let’s get there before it starts.” The favor of the ancestors felt strong within her this day. If she won, she’d pray for a blessing over her first command outing into the old Aeducan thaig.

She ran into Bhelen again that night, a rare occurrence, for her brother was usually only available to her at mealtimes. It was strange how he was always around, at the edges, but even she with her experience and savvy, generally just forgot about Bhelen. His gift was fading into the background, and she felt sorry for that. Maybe he felt her scrutiny, because he looked up at her, smiled and motioned her to him. Her conversation with Denek Helmi had pushed her younger brother to the forefront of her mind and now she couldn’t help but eye him warily.

They were in Trian’s quarters, and her elder brother had departed at their father’s summons. He had reminded her again of his low opinion of her, stating that being named a commander of Orzammar was no great feat. Vaia was tired of him and his jibes, and starting to worry about why Trian’s vitriol was so targeted on her in the moment. But Bhelen bade her come over with the wave of a hand once Trian was out of earshot, and she did, Gorim by her side.

“Big sister, I need to talk to you about Trian,” Bhelen began, and Vaia schooled her face into a placid mask, only betraying the slightest hint of interest.

“What about, dear brother?” she asked.

“Word is that Trian is frightened of you, that you’ll be named heir to the throne,” he started again, but Vaia held up a hand.

“That is foolishness. I am not the firstborn, nor am I going to stay in House Aeducan if I wed.”

“And that thinking is utter foolishness, not when our noble father is trying very desperately to find you a man suitable to join House Aeducan and take on the role of your prince,” Bhelen told her.

“Is that why you opposed Denek Helmi?” she asked.

Bhelen gave her a swift, sidelong glance before breaking into a smile. “In part. He sees you as a connection to the surface, which he’s ever curious about. That I don’t mind, but I do mind that you’d be in House Helmi instead of Aeducan with those connections.”

“Connections?” Vaia scoffed, but Bhelen just gave her a maddening smile.

“As you say, big sister, but that doesn’t mean that Trian’s feelings towards you are going to temper to anything rational even if you marry Denek Helmi. You could still ascend and you are popular enough personally, highly regarded by the deshyrs, and you have to loyalty of many soldiers. Can you not see why Trian is worried?”

Vaia wasn’t willing to go along with Bhelen’s urging against Trian, so she backtracked. “But I have no connections with the surface in any useful way. I know no merchants or surface families outside of the ones that perform work for House Aeducan.”

“Let us be honest, sister. You beguiled the prince of Ferelden, the younger of the two, if not both of them. That is what Helmi wants you for, make no mistake. He thinks that you might be able to give him leverage on the surface with the monarch of Ferelden, at least, that is what he hoped when he pushed his suit.”

“Beguiled a prince?”

“I have proof, you know, so there’s no sense in pretending. And I am only telling you this because I do need you to listen to me,” Bhelen said. He sat back in his chair and watched her for a reaction, but Vaia couldn’t do more than look her shock. Of all the people, she’d never thought it would be her brother.

“You have my letters?” she asked. Her voice was too quiet to her own ears, but Bhelen still heard her. True fear, as she'd never known in her brother's presence before, began to seep through her.

“Oh yes, more than I gave you. I consider them insurance, because I need you to kill our brother tomorrow down in the Deep Roads. Don’t worry, I will cover for you, at least enough so you can escape prison for the surface. You can be with your prince.” He added the last part as if that would be some kind of enticement, when all it did was make her sick to her stomach. Kill Trian? Such things did happen, but she’d never considered hurting a member of her house. She could easily be angry with Trian, but she would have died for him in the same breath as she berated him.

“Should you think of telling him of his fate, you should know there is no sense going to him,” Bhelen added, as if reading her thought. “He is quite firmly turned against you. I’ve been acting as his second for over a year now, and all the while you’ve fallen out of favor. Even worse now, because in your zeal for the human prince, you never once considered that Trian might hear the two of you humping like nugs in the room next to his, where your prince Alistair slept.”

“You want me to kill Trian? For the throne?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. Yes, for the throne, and to ensure she couldn’t take it either. It was going to brand her a murderer, and she’d be lucky to be exiled to the surface. If she didn’t do it herself, there was no doubt in her heart that Bhelen, acting as Trian’s second, would carry it out in her stead.

“Of course for the throne. You’ll have a chance tomorrow, but if you fail, I’ll make sure it gets done either way. Atrast tunsha, Princess Vaia. You’re going to the need some sleep,” Bhelen said, and dismissed her with a casual wave, as if they’d been talking over nothing more taxing than what they would eat for breakfast the next day.

Vaia, her heart in her feet and her mind spinning, left the room with Gorim in tow. Neither of them spoke at all even after they reached her room, but he held her as she began to cry.


	22. Chapter 22

Her father was dying.

Vaia knew this and yet, it was so hard for her to fathom that she simply could not make her mind realize it in any meaningful way. It was too unkind to understand, too awful to imagine. Endrin was like the Stone, always there, enduring. There were hardly any dwarves with memories of when he wasn’t the king. Only the oldest of her people had known another monarch, but lifetimes, especially those of a royal, could only last so long.

There were days when he didn’t sit in the throne or allow visitors to the palace, weeks when he was resting and more of his duties fell to either her and Trian, and Vaia took them up stoically, knowing and fearing but never daring to say anything aloud. Trian was the opposite, bombastic and loud, talking too much about his birthright and his future as king. Gorim was with her as always, his own silence a bulwark against any emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Duty left little room for her own displays of temper or weeping, and for that she was glad.

Was it like this for Alistair? Afterward when his father never returned home, did he use the work and duty and cover himself in it like a fell blanket over a man forced to dig his own grave? Or was that just her in her cowardice, refusing to acknowledge the natural end that she was too frightened to look in the face. Dwarva always fought over succession, and they had been over Endrin’s for years, assuming he was near death, knowing it stalked them all. But that knowing had been academic, that assumption premature, until now.

When Vaia awoke the next morning after her conversation with Bhelen, everything was thrown into sharper focus, the edges sharp and unyielding. Bhelen was counting on their father dying, on her grief and guilt over Alistair to manipulate her into killing Trian and naming him heir. Bhelen, still a child by the standards of their society — for it was on his upcoming birthday in two weeks that he’d come of age — had outplayed her. It would rankle if it didn’t already hurt so much. Trian was, if not a monster already, well on his way to becoming one, but Bhelen was worse. He had taken in the most dangerous and confusing parts of their society and made them part of his being, a duplicitous face that wore so many masks she wondered if he even truly knew himself. It didn’t matter; Bhelen was no longer her problem, but her master.

She went to visit her father, finding him awake and spry, ready for their journey into the Deep Roads. Vaia herself was armored and carrying a weapon, but grim and sad contrasted to her father’s ebullience. His energy was not half of what it had once been, but Vaia found it jarring considering the past few weeks where he’d been mostly stuck in bed. Once upon a time, she might have found it refreshing, but the skin of his face was stretched too tightly over jutting bones where they had once been fullness, his voice was ragged and no amount of water could blunt the edges completely.. She would remember him like this, until the Stone claimed her for its own, a caricature of what he once had been, oblivious to the scheming of his own children. Vaia wanted to make a blessing, but found she couldn’t bring the Ancestors into a day like today.

“Father, my King, I love you dearly,” she told King Endrin in a low voice only meant for him to hear. He did and kissed the back of her hand with his dry, wizened lips.

“Vaia, my lovely daughter, today we shall celebrate our history and rain blessings of our house down on Orzammar.”

She hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed by the truth when it came out.

#

The Grey Wardens offered him a place in their ranks. Duncan left the missive behind, instructing that it be given to Alistair at a certain time once they were gone, so that he may think about it without the pressure of their presence. It was an eloquent letter, full of the right mix of flattery and enticement that nobles and royalty craved in all of their correspondence. He made sure to praise Alistair while still pointing out there was much to be learned if he joined their ranks.

Alistair had considered joining before he gotten the letter, but the missive spurred him to dangerous fantasies. He was unnecessary in the castle, reminded of it by Anora’s brisk efficiency and Cailan’s popularity. His brother had a bright presence and ease with people that contrasted well with Anora’s quick, keen mind. They were an effective team, and these last weeks they’d been shoring up support from the nobility and food from the bannorn like never before. Denerim was starting to regain some of her old shine under their combined efforts, but Alistair’s troops still lagged and suffered.

He wasn’t meant for this life, no matter how he tried to fit into it. Every day he was reminded of it when he didn’t want to get out of bed, knowing that there was no point in it. Alistair spent his mornings dreading the day, laying in bed until the last possible moment, looking at the portrait of Vaia, wishing she were with him. It wouldn’t solve anything, he knew, but she would be here with him instead of engaged to marry some man she didn’t love in Orzammar.

“You have a strong arm and a good instincts, Your Highness,” the letter had said. “With training, you could learn how to best use them.”

“With training,” Alistair echoed to himself.

Glory and adventure was the life of the Grey Wardens in stories. He wondered how much of that was true. Would it be a wandering, nomadic life of setting evil to rights, one that would eventually bring him back to Orzammar, or would it be grim realities with no relief? He couldn’t say, but did know that all Wardens eventually went to Orzammar, to clear out darkspawn as they died. The dwarves respected them for it, for he heard more than one lavish praise on the wardens because of it during his visit. One day he’d be an old man, white hair and wrinkles where there were none now, and he’d go there. Would Vaia recognize the warrior he’d become, a Warden, as her one-time love? Could she accept that they may have but however long he might be in the city, stolen moments once again at the end of his life?

That was years away, but it seemed like the only real chance he’d get to go back to Orzammar in his lifetime. Would that be enough for him? For them?

He was considering it.

#

House Aeducan was once Warrior Caste, so retrieving their old weapons was about all they could do in the thaig, for dwarves were singular in their tasks and there wouldn’t be much else of value. Even raised to nobility, the house had been full of warriors, and it had taken a generation for them to lose their martial focus. Warriors fought, smiths made, servants served and royals ruled, as it had been for generations underground, tradition ruling effectively over the lives of dwarves as kings and queens lived and died.

Vaia was sent after the Aeducan Shield, a family relic of excellent ancient make, techniques long lost to them now. The shield itself was hidden or it would have turned to dust or been melted down and misused by the darkspawn long ago. It weighed heavy on her shoulders as she wore it back, a shield she couldn’t use, that no smith could replicate without destroying it and represented how much they had to put on the line to reclaim a single piece of the past. It was a heavy, ornate status symbol for her father and brothers, something her house could hold up and above the others.

When Vaia rounded the corner and saw the slain bodies of Trian and his guards in the tunnels leading from the Aeducan thaig, she repressed her shudder. She was warned, she had known, but still wasn’t prepared for the sight of her brother, dead on the ground. Who would take him back to Orzammar, she wondered just as her father’s retinue came from around their own bend to see her leaning over Trian.

The words said by the actors in the play were unimportant. She maintained her innocence with a frightened detachment, and her two guards, Frandlin Ivo and the hireling, testified to her guilt. Just as she hung her head, unable to meet her father’s gaze and the anger of the others, Bhelen spoke up.

“Frandlin Ivo is a known liar,” Bhelen said. “I have proof of it from multiple witnesses back at the palace. I was going to bring it to Trian’s attention soon, but seeing as how he prevented that, I can only assume that he found out about it and tried to frame my sister.”

“No! I speak the truth!” Ivo began to protest, but Bhelen cut him off.

“Do you?” her little brother asked, and gave him a smile so cruel, Vaia felt the man recoil. “Or do you say what you are paid to say, you honorless worm?”

“I know the truth!” Ivo tried again, but Bhelen backhanded him. The crack of the noise echoed around them, and her astonishment was mirrored on Gorim’s face.

“You know _nothing_ ,” he said smoothly, and then walked to their father’s side. “My King, Prince Trian deserves more than this. Let us go back and discuss the punishment for this liar and his hireling when we get to the palace.”

She had seen cruelty on many levels before, but the coldness radiating from her brother was so unlike his normal, affable persona that Vaia thought she might be sick on the Stone. Why was he saving her when he’d paid these men to lie? What did he have in store that he wanted her around for and not Frandlin Ivo indebted to him? Ivo was set to take control of his house, could be an ally, if a minor one.

In the wake of their conversation the evening before with Bhelen, she and Gorim had sketched out a plan. It was shaky and needed much more flesh before she could enact it, but it was a plan to flee. Her life here as a murderer or worse, Bhelen’s puppet, was nothing Vaia wanted to live. Gorim had suggested the surface and Alistair before she even thought of it and had sent her heart into a tailspin. If this indeed was her chance she had to take it before Bhelen made it too difficult for her to break free again.

Upon reflection, Vaia found she couldn’t recall going back to Orzammar, only that they did and Trian was laid to rest properly in the Stone. Those that washed and dressed him said nothing of the wound in his neck, the one that ended his life. Bhelen steadily proclaimed Frandlin Ivo’s faithlessness to any who listened, especially their father. Endrin, already weak and now sick with grief and calling for Ivo’s death and the dissolution of his house, took to his bed.

At least there he wasn’t beset by Bhelen, who was banned along with Vaia from the bedside by Lord Harrowmount. Harrowmount came into the palace like the breeze off the middens, and where she once might have trusted him more than Bhelen, Vaia was certain his steadfast friendship served its own ends more than her father’s interests. In the middle of this morass, Bhelen announced that he had impregnated his casteless concubine and was raising her to the house. Normally, this wasn’t done until after the birth, in case the child was the wrong gender, in this case a girl, because she’d inherit her mother’s castelessness. It caused not ripples but full waves, and arguments about it shook the Diamond Quarter even as the casteless girl, Rica, and her mother moved into the palace.

Her father was dying and she was next up for the slaughter, too scared to do anything about it but wait for Bhelen to turn his gaze back to her. Vaia may have been too frightened to move, but Gorim wasn’t and it was his hand that clamped over her mouth one night and then led her past guards he’d bribed to the freedom of the surface, away from her calculating brother, near death father and everything that they’d both ever known. She took the Aeducan Shield that she’d retrieved on the day Trian died, she’d been spared and her father took to his bed. It was one of the few things she kept from her old life.

The sun, so harsh and unyielding, made her weep with joy every morning as she woke up to watch it rise.


	23. Chapter 23

Alistair woke up, looked at the ceiling of his chambers and turned back over, wondering why he was even bothering to get up these days. What day was it? It didn’t matter. He cleared his throat into the silence and winced at the strangled sound that scraped out, making himself cough. His voice was hoarse from arguing with Cailan. It had been over a week since he’d brought up the idea of renouncing his claim to the throne to join the Wardens, and Cailan wouldn’t budge on the subject.

The King had absolutely forbidden him to join the Grey Wardens. Technically, he could still be conscripted, but he doubted that the Wardens would be eager to go against the will of the King in this matter.

“Alistair, you are my heir. Anora and I have no children as of yet. You cannot simply going haring off to join the Wardens because you were impressed by them. Your duty requires you to stay a Prince of Ferelden. Not only that, I’m to lose my father and little brother? No, I cannot,” Cailan argued. Alistair remembered the pain, the frustration behind it, and while he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty for asking, he hadn’t given much thought to how Cailan would feel. 

“This isn’t ill-considered. I’ve thought of nothing else and no other option really, you know, works at all for me,” Alistair argued, but to no avail.

“Perhaps I am a selfish man, Alistair, but I would miss you a great deal. I know that you are, “ he paused, thinking of the words, “acting out of grief and seeking your own happiness, but that has to be tempered by duty to the things and people we honor and love. If you honor Ferelden tradition, the fight that Father led against the Orlesians to win back our throne and independence, then I implore you to think of that when this notion takes you again.”

There wasn’t much argument Alistair could mount against his brother’s last, passionate plea, and so the fighting had come to a close, though not before his voice had suffered for it. He was tired, cold, and desolate. The life that stretched out in front of him was bleakly filled with duty and the prospect of waning letters from Vaia in Orzammar. Nothing appealed to him, and today, Alistair decided not to get up. There was no more point in fighting with Cailan — he was king after all — and the subject of the Grey Wardens was closed. Any more prodding might make Cailan consider banning them from all Ferelden again, as their ancestor had done years back.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t see Vaia again or that he wouldn’t become a Grey Warden, though both of those things together didn’t exactly make him feel better, it was more that he would never have a life he wanted to live. There was no part of his life now that he loved or even liked. It was all duty, all expectations and responsibility and no freedom or cause to laugh. Maric’s death had seen all of that vanish in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing left in him to keep going. He had no purpose, and that bundled with the bitter weights of disappointment, heartache and grief made Alistair draw into himself. Without any real hope for his future on the horizon, there was no way he could escape his despair.

Cailan told him not to mope, not to shirk his responsibilities, but Alistair had nothing to give.

He stayed in his bed and let the troops practice themselves today. When Anora sent a mage to him out of concern, thinking him ill, he sent them away without letting them examine him.

There was nothing a mage could do to heal him.

#

As Vaia took in the sky, the amazing vastness of nothing that somehow encompassed everything, she tried to ease her breathing, to use her logical and methodical mind to help them get along.

Bhelen was going to try to kill her. She knew this for fact, because he’d worked too long and too hard to get her under his thumb to just let her go. They’d both known the wisdom of cultivating ties to the surface, though she had no idea just how far Bhelen had gotten in his. Whenever she’d argued with their father about it, it had been he that stood at her side. Now she knew the source of that unexpected loyalty; it served his own interests.

That thought was ever present in her mind, even as they traveled down the strange roads of Ferelden. She needed allies, even temporary ones, shelter, and better directions. A guide would be ideal, if they could find one to trust, but that was a faint hope. They were trying to get to Redcliffe and from there to Denerim, to Alistair. Bhelen had to be expecting that, and she’d do her best to work around it, but the surface was so different. Never in all of her imaginings did she think that it was like this. Adaptation would take time they could ill afford to lose, and yet, if they didn’t try to adapt, they’d die. It was a race against so many factors, it made her head spin to think on it.

There was so much surface compared to how small her city had been, and so many ways to get lost and so much more water than she had anticipated. It was cold and it rained, which she knew the theory of but never expected water to fall from the sky, and the noise and flashes of light that accompanied it. Night was so hard, and there were so many animals in the forest that it was like being trapped in the Deep Roads. Although her vision at night was better, for she was more accustomed to the darkness of living underground, she had no idea how to navigate this terrain without the light of the blinding sun overhead. The roads weren’t smooth and paved, and some shouldn’t even have rightly carried the name of road, but rather, trail, and all of it made each day of walking tiresome on her dwarven legs, unaccustomed to changes in elevation and terrain.

And then there were the Fereldans, who weren’t like the ambassadors and nobility she’d come to know. The accents were so broad and hard to understand at times, and there was so much farmland around them once they’d come out of the mountain pass. They had so many things they all just seemed to know, and they kept asking her if she was in the Smith Caste, or just assuming it. King Maric, Cailan, and Alistair were so tall, she’d expected humans to be taller and fitter than the vast majority of them she’d met on the road.

All of these things ran through her head as she tried to make it to the large city of Redcliffe. They had a map and that was where they wanted to go to get on the main road. It would take many days, but since they had two packs full of supplies and no where else to go, that didn’t worry Vaia. It was what she might find in Denerim that worried her, but she didn’t share these thoughts with Gorim, not yet.

Brave Gorim who had seen the end coming and protected her as best her could. She’d asked him how he’d set this all up so well, because their escape was paid for and arranged well in advance of Bhelen’s final betrayal, and she marveled at the precision of it. It had taken her three days to ask, once her every waking moment was no longer preoccupied with getting away.

“I knew I had to protect you, my lady,” he said, speaking slowly. 

“You didn’t have to come, Gorim. It could have just been me. And you don’t have to call me that anymore, I am fairly certain I’m no longer a princess,” Vaia said with a soft laugh.

“It’s habit,” he said and shrugged, “plus it feels odd to just call you Vaia, without the princess in front of it.”

“Please try,” she urged and then prompted him again, “How did you get Denek Helmi to assist us?”

“Denek Helmi, no matter what he said about not marrying you, always had surface ties. I knew that, and I asked, discreetly. He got us the maps and the proper kind of camping equipment. Might have been from his own stores — he seems the type to always keep a contingency plan on hand.”

“Is he?” Vaia asked. That was news to her, but then again, she’d never had the chance to know him well. Before they’d left Orzammar, he helped both her and Gorim as they left, and she’d kissed him in thanks. He gave her a sad smile and a few parting words before bribing a guard and waving them away. For all of his supposed love of the surface, he was careful not to be there when the gates were opened to let them out.

“He is paranoid enough, I think,” Gorim answered, bringing her back to the present. “But in any case, the arrangements were made fast, which is why we have more gems than gold and only a few pieces of lyrium to trade. I wasn’t able to acquire as much money as I would have liked in time. Helmi did the rest, bribing the guards and making sure to cause enough trouble in the Diamond Quarter that we can have a head start before they can mobilize after us.”

“But why?”

“Because he knows you’ll go to your prince, and that’s who expects will repay this favor, eventually,” Gorim said simply. “My lady, for all that we tried for discretion, all of Orzammar suspected the truth of your relationship. An affair with a human is most scandalous, especially since it was you, daughter to King Endrin. Rumors still are whispered, though none of them are completely correct in the details.”

“I know,” Vaia said, cutting him off. “Let’s get to Denerim and confirm it for them, shall we?” she asked and walked on a little faster.

“Vaia,” Gorim called after her, sounding unsure as he used just her name. “I have a present, if I may.”

She stopped to let him catch up to her, and to her surprise, he prodded the pack on her back. She took it off and he pointed to a spot near the bottom, but didn’t make a move to open the small compartment there of the nug-leather bag, dyed brown to avoid drawing too much attention.

“Your letters are in there. I thought you’d want them, aside from the fact they are useful in confirming your identity. All of your letters. I took the liberty of getting the rest from Prince Bhelen’s rooms before we left.”

“Gorim, I could kiss you,” Vaia said, smiling at him.

“I’d take you up on it if I didn’t have to fight a giant human prince for your affections,” he chuckled and gave her a broad smile. “Let’s keep walking and think of fake names.”

“Fake names? Ah, yes, I suppose we should be better about hiding,” Vaia considered, and then lost herself in the fantasy of creating a new life, not just a name, but a life, here on the surface.

#

“Alistair, come, I have questions that I’ll need your assistance to answer,” Cailan said, cornering him one day just after breakfast. 

Alistair had stopped coming downstairs for his morning meal, preferring to be alone. He ate in bed, sometimes not at all and left to do his training. Hitting things helped, though not always. It was hard to get out of bed, to do things that he hated just because it was expected of him, but he did try. He had to try, he guessed, until there was nothing left. The king had eaten many hours before and looked resplendent in full court dress, obviously readying for a day of hearing cases. Cailan blazed vitality in the colors of the house of Theirin, the gold silk of his shirt so fine it was rivaled only by the color of his hair. Alistair was wearing his training armor and wasn’t sure he’d brushed his hair that morning, but he had long since given up comparing himself to his older brother.

Honestly, some days it wasn’t very bad, but the problem felt like it lived inside of his skin. Instead of enjoying the warmth from the sunlight, Alistair thought about how long it had been since Maric died, since things were they way they should be, since he’d been to Orzammar and felt the warmth of their lava flow. Everyday of his life he counted backwards, thinking about how just a year ago everything was so different that it felt unrecognizable.

The mages made him drink a potion for ‘the sickness of his spirit’ but he wasn’t sure it really helped. He did drink it, though he hated the tar-like consistency and taste, and it bound him up worst than eating a whole cheese wheel in one sitting. But the mages that made it had talked to Cailan and Anora, and now Alistair was able to work with the animals more and do more training with the troops and less leading them, letting Loghain’s second-in-command take over permanently. It was easier, simpler and better suited to him, though not as well as life as among the Grey Wardens would have been, at least in his mind.

Even though he was far from feeling like himself still, Alistair could get up and work, and that felt better than not wanting to get out of bed. 

“This notice came, and I want to know what you make of it, since you know more about the dwarves than I do,” Cailan told him once they were closed in his private study.

“Something official came from Orzammar?” he asked, perking up. In answer, his brother held out a proclamation to him. This definitely wasn’t from Vaia. She would never send anything official to him, but then dread settled in his stomach. Maybe it was her marriage proclamation, he thought, and he took the parchment to read it.

“Princess Vaia Aeducan has been kidnapped by her second, Gorim Saelac. She is thought to be on the surface and anyone found holding her against her will is an enemy of Orzammar. Her safe return to Orzammar will be rewarded.”

He read it again, and then once more, trying to make sense of it. Vaia had been kidnapped? By Gorim? “But, but this is ridiculous! They’d never take her back, she’s sky-touched now!” he sputtered. Alistair turned it over and saw it signed with the seal of the deshyrs, but not the king. “The king, her father, didn’t even send this.” He frowned, his mind slowly churning as it put pieces together.

“And he wouldn’t, even if she had been kidnapped,” Cailan said. “When was the last time the dwarves told us anything about their internal politics?”

“You think she ran away?” Alistair asked and gasped. “She’s on the surface. She’s here.”

“I think you’d better go find this dangerous enemy of Orzammar and offer her and her ‘kidnapper’ asylum,” Cailan told him. “Someone wants her back, but not as a princess.”

“Maker, she’s in trouble,” Alistair breathed and then understood everything all at once. He did know more about dwarven society than Cailan, and more than that, he knew Gorim. A more devoted and protective second he’d never seen, and he was dedicated to Vaia. He’d likely saved her from something, not kidnapped her. Alistair was probably walking into some kind of trap, but at least realizing it he could prepare for it.

“She’s trying to get to me, I know it, “ Alistair muttering his thoughts aloud to confirm them. He was speaking more to himself than to Cailan, but then looked up to meet his brother’s gaze. Cailan was completely still, waiting, watching Alistair as he came to his conclusions.

“My king, I beg leave to take care of this matter. And I’ll need the mages to make up as much of my potion as they can, hopefully a month’s worth.” He wasn’t really asking, he was telling, but he was sure his brother would forgive him in this case. Cailan was nodding at him, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he responded.

“I’ll do better than that little brother, you can have your leave and a mage too. Wait, no, well, yes, take the mage by all means, but also, send your men,” Cailan said, scratching at his chin absently as he thought. “Yes, split them into parties, however you like and cover more ground. I can’t have you gone for months at a time, and this is the perfect training. Search and rescue as it were. You’ll have to move fast.”

With the support of his brother confirmed, Alistair smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. He had a princess to save.


End file.
